


We'll Always End Up Here

by wisepuma23



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisepuma23/pseuds/wisepuma23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>End!Verse AU. After Dean dies in 2014, Castiel makes a decision to follow him into Hell by joining forces with Lucifer, but it’s only later he finds out that he’s been tricked. A couple of centuries pass and Castiel is the yellowed eyed abomination that runs Hell in the shadows; the only one who convinced Lucifer to spare humanity for only one sole reason... the Winchesters. Now that they’ve been reincarnated, of course their master plan goes to shit. Old habits die hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Always End Up Here

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank bumblebea for her lovely alpha/beta-ing because I would not have survived to make it this far. Bless her <3
> 
> Also don't forget to leave comments and kudos, it's my first DCBB

   ****

**Year 2014**

Castiel stared at the unmoving corpse of Dean Winchester.  He managed to escape from the Croatans- he thought it was a suicide mission from the start- but he foolishly thought that Dean would somehow be spared, and Cas could finally end his useless life.  Castiel pulled the broken neck of his friend on his bloodied knees, and he stroked over his freckles, individually counting them for the last time.  He ignored the loaded gun next to him.  That would certainly be used later, but not just now…..Castiel wanted to etch every feature of his friend into memory, so he could remember him, wherever he went, let it be Purgatory, or even Hell.  He knew Heaven wouldn’t be an option, since the angels wouldn’t accept him beyond the pearly gates.  He was abandoned.   

“Hello, brother, long time no see.”

“ _Lucifer,_ ” Castiel hissed out.

“Do you miss your little pet?” Lucifer stepped closer.

“You already know that I do.  What do you want? My life?” Castiel said flatly.

“Or I can give you a deal.”  Lucifer rested a hand on Castiel’s slumped shoulder, his voice soft and empathic.

“What?” Castiel tried but failed to hide the surprise in his voice.

“I can send you to Heaven or Hell.  Your choice.”

“Heaven or Hell? What do you mean by that?” Castiel finally looked up at Lucifer.  The older angel’s lips tugged at the corners, as if something was funny.

“Where do you think Dean Winchester is?” Lucifer asked softly, his borrowed eyes twinkling.

“No, he’s not--I don’t think--” His blue eyes widened in shock.  He shook his head, not believing it for one minute.

“Oh _Cas_.” Lucifer patted him on the shoulders, as if he was bearing bad news.

“Is he…..?” Castiel started to say but trailed off.  In Hell, his thoughts finished.

 

“So, Castiel, make your choice.  Heaven or Hell?” Lucifer gave a large grin, and held out his hand to Castiel.  Castiel’s face morphed between indecision and misery, until he finally settled on resignation.

“Hell,” Castiel said with steel determination, and took Lucifer’s hand and stood up, leaving Dean in the dead grass.

“I would be glad to have you in our ranks.” Lucifer smiled darkly as he threw an arm around Castiel, pulling him away from Dean’s body.  Castiel risked a look back at his longtime best friend for the past five years.

“ _Castiel,_ you know how deals work.” Lucifer slightly pushed him for his attention.   Castiel wrenched away from the sight of Dean’s corpse into Lucifer’s unsettling stare.  Dull brown eyes came closer and closer until their lips met, quick and chaste.

“Will I see him?” Castiel asked, his blue eyes big and hopeful.

“Who?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Oh, who said _anything_ about seeing Dean?” Lucifer chuckled, deep and forced.

“But you--”

“He’s in Heaven, oops.  Did I forget to mention I have no control where a soul goes? You are rather gullible today, Castiel, it must all that poison you snorted or smoked, or something with the sniveling humans.”  Lucifer’s grip around Castiel’s shoulders tightened until Castiel squirmed uncomfortably.

“What’s happening?” Castiel gasped out as he finally squirmed around in Lucifer’s iron grip to look back at Dean’s suddenly glowing body in bright white light.  Lucifer explained impatiently that Death was currently reaping Dean’s soul.  Castiel’s shiny blue eyes looked down at Dean’s corpse, now realizing that might be the last time he might see him, ever.

 _“DEAN!_ ” Castiel screamed out as Lucifer moved his hand from his shoulder to his neck and in a quick movement, snapped it, and then everything went numb.

 

* * *

**  
Year 2234**

Castiel opened his sleepy eyes.  He never liked waking up in the mornings, or the gross eye crust formed overnight as well.  Lucifer mumbled as Castiel shifted away from him, trying to get up from the luxury bed.  The grip on his hips tightened and pulled back closer to the large form of Lucifer’s vessel, Lucifer breathing softly on Cas neck, above the red bite.

“Where do you think you’re going, angel?” Lucifer purred.

“I have to go to work, you know this.  In fact you gave me the job,” Castiel huffed, as he continued to wiggle out of Lucifer’s grip.

“But you’re sleeping with the boss, I’m sure I can make you late without getting fired,” Lucifer teased as he threw a leg over him.

“ _Lucifer._ ” He bit the inside of his lip to prevent showing disgust on his face.  The devil reluctantly let him go.  Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, gathering up his pants and shirts from the floor.  He quickly stood up to clasp the belt buckle on his pants before sitting back down on the white bed.  Cas’ back arched in surprise as he felt warm breath on the bottom knobs of his spine, a large hand pushing up the undershirt and intervening in his morning ritual.  He felt sultry kisses trailing his spine higher and higher as the weight on the bed shifted behind him.  Castiel felt warm thighs surrounding his own, and a back in line with his.  Lucifer lazily licked the recent bite on the back of Castiel’s neck, ignoring the hiss of pain from him.   

“Could you _please_ stop? I am trying to set a good example for the rest of your demons.    I have a Hell to run,” Castiel complained as he tilted his head to the right, Lucifer mouthing the bare neck with practiced precision, counting the dips and hills of skin already marked many times before.   

“Hell could wait.” Lucifer gave a boyish grin as bit the wound again, hard enough for it to bleed.  Castiel immediately went pliant with a sharp, pained hiss.  His bony and bare wings were enveloped by Lucifer’s own pearly white with a tinge of gold on the tips.   

Castiel was an hour late.

+++

Castiel’s eyes twitched in annoyance as he waited for Bella to arrive in the dirty alley, and looked at the beautiful light grey skies above him.  A Sky-City floated by.  A Sky-City was exactly what it said on the tin- a city in the sky- powered by large aerial engines underneath by using nuclear fusion.  It was a clever way invented by the humans to avoid Croatans on Earth since the corpses couldn’t fly, and it didn’t destroy the atmosphere either, which was a large plus for the wrecked planet.   

“Stargazing again, Cassie?” Bela’s voice rang, mocking, in the alley, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

“There aren’t any stars to gaze at, Bela,” Castiel replied.  Bela gave a grin and walked next to him, close enough he could smell the sulfur.

“So…..” Bela poked him in the sides.  It took all of his willpower not to yelp.

“The answer is still no, Bela Talbot, and besides, Lucifer wouldn’t approve,” Castiel hissed out in a low voice, each step closer to the pre-determined spot.

“I am just saying, get a nice female vessel, at least a C-cup, and make babies.  I’m sure the girl won’t mind you using her body for good use; you’re just _borrowing_ it.”

“Borrowing it? Is that what you call it nowadays, to spawn the children of Satan?” Castiel spat.

“Come on, it’s not so bad.  Speaking from personal experience here, I didn’t know your boss was such a wild one in the sac.” Bela teased again.  Cas only gave an angry huff in response as they stopped before a large symbol burnt into the earth.  Bela grasped Castiel’s elbow and walked right on top of it.  Then she started the ritual she did every morning, her golden brown eyes blown black, chanting in a bored tone as the symbol pulsed with red light.  Circles and triangles, and all kinds of shapes imaginable, pulsed in different shades of red.   

Before Castiel could blink, there was a ding in a fake grey elevator they transported into, and right underneath them was a much smaller version of the red symbol, almost decorative.   Castiel pulled away his arm from Bela.  He never did like demons transporting him to places since he wasn’t demonic enough to get some of the higher powers.  Bela gave a small wave and a wink as the elevator doors closed again.  Cas turned around and walked through a room full of cubicles, like an ordinary office building.

It was, of course, no ordinary office building.

Castiel looked at the different employees in each cubicle.  Instead of telephones, or pagers, they had bowls with fresh human blood to communicate.  He remembered the large fight about using fresh human blood.  The bloody fight had ended in two destroyed cities while Lucifer sulked in defeat, and so nowadays Castiel organized the blood donor drives across over 96 Sky Nations that shipped in daily to keep up communications.

The angel gestured for a cup and a brunette demon hastily gave him a cup of coffee- three cubes of sugar and 0.975 cup of milk.  If his assistant made a mistake, well, she would be sent back downstairs for a ‘retraining’.   

“Sir, there are increasing reports of Hunting raids.  From our sources it appears that the Hunters are looking for you, sir,” the demon said quickly as she ran to keep up with Castiel’s brisk pace.

“Why haven’t they been dealt with yet? Send out a group of ten demons, and make sure it appears like an accident.  We can’t have any distractions, especially now,” Castiel growled back.  He sipped his coffee in one gulp, and threw it in the trashcan without looking.

“Cassie, dear, did you get the soul that I asked for?” Crowley called out from a doorway of one of the offices.  Castiel only gave him the finger and kept walking.  Crowley replied with an amused laugh.

“Sir, Samhain is on line two, and Lucifer is on line one.  Both of them say it’s urgent,” another demon, this time a man with unruly red hair, said to Castiel as he opened the door to a staircase.  He dismissed both of his assistants with a wave of his hand and went up the stairs two at a time.   _It was probably not good_ , Castiel thought as he put his hand on the scanner by the door knob, opening the recently polished black door.  It was all the rage nowadays, scanners along with the old fashioned doors.  They called it ‘Neoclassicism” or something like that.

The door beeped and slid open, rendering the doorknob useless.  Castiel thought it was unnecessary to keep up with the trends, but Lucifer wouldn’t take it.  The open doorway revealed three walls full of pictures of nature and animals along with propaganda of the Great Sky Nation of America.  The blue poster showed a floating ship in the white clouds as black figures dotted the earth below, and in big white letters:

 

**SOMEDAY, WE WILL THROW THE SHACKLES OF OUR PAST AWAY**

**AND FACE THE FUTURE FOR A NEW TOMORROW**

 

Castiel huffed under his breath, ‘Unlikely,’ and turned to the large windowpane that spanned the entire fourth wall, reaching from floor to ceiling.  The glass shimmered in the early sun, and made the Sky-City of New Chicago glimmer beneath.  Castiel gave a small smile.  It reminded him of watching a new day with Dean, around two hundred years ago.  Dean would silently give him a beer as if angels needed to drink.  The memory was during the time that Dean still loved him, Castiel was tied to Heaven, and Sam was alive.

The incessant beeping from his blood bowl cut through the silence, and the memories disappeared like smoke.  He shook himself from his glazed stupor and then sat at his sleek black desk, with a mountain of papers and classified files.  He dug underneath the messy pile until he managed to find his bowl, then gave the answering chant boredly, and decided to answer Samhain first.  At least he wouldn’t make innuendos, and had an air of respect.       

“Hello, Castiel.  Have you heard about the Hunting raids, recently?” Samhain drawled as something gurgled in the background of the call.  Presumably it was the person he had freshly killed.  Samhain was very set in his ways that no amount of arguing from Castiel could change.

“Yes, what about them? I already sent a squad to take care of them efficiently and quietly,” Castiel answered as he drifted his focus onto the large piles of sheets scattered around his desk as if it was a war zone; no forms of generals or officials at all, just the way Castiel liked it.

“Still, shouldn’t we raise the security and move you to another location? Lucifer doesn’t like his angel in danger,” Samhain sighed, much like an old man dealing with a youngster, although it was the other way around.  Castiel bit his tongue at being called Lucifer’s angel. It was unfortunately true.  He had sold his human soul and now it completely belonged to Lucifer.  But he still didn’t like it.

“Hmph, we can discuss moving later,” Castiel grunted, unwilling to share his thoughts on the matter.       

“Besides, doesn’t the mayor have orders not to send Hunters after the TANAS company?” Samhain mused.  Castiel furrowed his eyebrows as he realized that he was right.  Castiel did send orders to the city government.  In fact, he had the paper copy around here in the white chaos on his desk.        

“You may be right.  That is strange.  Samha---” Castiel was interrupted as large screams came from downstairs, then suddenly fell silent.  Large thuds could be heard coming closer to the stairwell that led to the very top of the building, Castiel’s office.  He quickly swept the bowl off his desk, ending the call as blood splattered on the wooden floor and the bowl clattered and bounced.  Cas dropped his armful of papers, freeing his hands to open the drawers beneath his desk.  He gave a sigh of relief as he finally found the correct drawer.  It was lined with numerous knives of all shapes and sizes, but he looked up at the pile of papers that were still on his desk, full of sensitive information that should never get into Sky Government’s hands.  They wouldn’t understand.  They wouldn’t understand the work Castiel had done in the past few centuries, and he did it all of it, for them, for humanity, to make sure that the world kept on spinning as he carefully maintained it behind the scenes. In fact, that was the very nature of the TANAS company: duling out ordered chaos versus extinction.

Castiel’s face hardened.  All of these papers were copies from the originals that were stored away in Hell, and could very easily be burned.  With that thought in mind, the papers burst into flames and flew to the side of the room, along with the desk, with a flick of his hand.  The flaming desk would prove to be a good distraction.  Castiel’s ears focused on the loud footfalls of at least ten Hunters coming closer and closer until they came to a stop behind the door of his office that faced straight at him.  Castiel noticed that his eyes flicked from their usual cool blue into sickly yellow from a mirror on his desk, much like Azazel’s before his untimely demise at Dean’s hands.  As the door burst open with a large bang, he brought his hand up, palm open toward the soldiers, and his knives hovered in the air, points glinting in the sunrise from behind him.  Telekinesis, apparently, was one of the perks of being damned.       

“We come in the name of the Mayor! Put down your weapons or we’ll shoot,” one of the Hunters said, taller than the rest of the Hunters that were filing into his office.  Their shoulders brushed as they lined up, twelve soldiers in all.  Their completely black leather uniforms were bulky and limited, due to the extra padding especially made to withstand a Croat’s feral teeth.  The uniform’s limited motion was going to be their demise.  Unfortunately he had to send a message.

“I _own_ the Mayor, and I certainly own some of you,” Castiel snarled with a mix of frustration and anger.  The knives swooped in with deadly accuracy and almost every one of them stuck home, into the Hunters’ heads, their faces stuck forever in a mixture of shock and/or horror.  But only one of the soldiers survived the deadly attack and sidestepped the knife that instead landed into the wall behind him.  The unknown soldier tackled him, shaking Cas out of his surprised stupor and with a flick of his hand, the knife came back and stabbed the man straight between the eyes.  But it was already too late.      

The momentum of the man’s tackle sent Castiel flying through the window and left the man’s corpse hanging over the edge, getting smaller and smaller by the second as he fell.      

Castiel’s eyes flickered back to blue as his wings tried to slow down his fall but it was no use-- all of his feathers and muscles has been stripped to the bone, leaving nothing at all.  He was going to die.

Again.

He closed his eyes as his body came closer to the unrelenting pavement below.  

 _Perhaps it was for the best._     

    ****

* * *

  **Year 2234**

Dean didn’t even know why he was floating through Sky-Chicago near all of the buildings.  It was damn right dangerous.  Plus, one of those corporate hotshots might yell at him and get both Sammy and him arrested by Hunters, which wouldn’t be good for Sam’s permanent record, since he wanted to be a lawyer.  However, Dean already knew the reason why he was doing something dangerous and reckless like this.  It was Sam’s idea.  He wanted to see the City from his porch and maybe wave to that girl in front of the coffee shop by the name of Jessica.  It was sappy and girly and everything Dean didn’t do.

Dean steered the house by flipping the sink upside down to reveal the house’s controls.  It was standard in today’s times, or otherwise the house would float to wherever it damn well pleased.  As they passed the biggest building in the city, they floated somewhere next to the 8th floor of the TANAS corporation.  The biggest company in the whole sky, they had fingers in every pie known to humanity since ‘The End’.  

‘The End’ was a reference to those Winchester Gospels, a particular scene in which Lucifer had killed the Righteous Man and disappeared from the face of the earth, or more likely, no one had ever seen him come back alive.

It was a big fat pile of phooey.  Everybody with a brain knew that the Winchester Gospels were like the rest of the Bible, just stories and myths to scare little children at night and teach them how to be _good_.

Dean locked the controls in place with a push of a blue button and turned around, leaning back on the counter to see his big brother sitting on the porch.  His gangly legs were swinging back and forth over the edge, a habit that both brothers had taken to since they were little, that meant they were nervous.

“Hey Sammy, I’m sure that Jessica girl will see you and fall over herself at your feet.” Dean snickered at his beet red face.

“Shut up!” Sam turned around and flipped him off.

“Well, when is the wed---” Dean started but got cut off as a large thump rattled the whole house.  Dean wasted no time unlocking the controls and flying to a higher altitude, Sam already closing all of the doors and windows by the time he stopped somewhere between and above two Sky-Cities.

Dean heard a loud groaning from the roof.   _Crap, is that someone up there?_ Dean gestured toward the sink and Sam nodded as he took the controls.   _I really hope my tomatoes and petunias are okay. I traded two wool blankets for those seeds, dang it._  Dean sighed heavily as he saw the sprawled man on top of his thick garden, most of his plants crushed beyond repair.

“Fuck.”

 

* * *

  **Year 2163**

 

_Castiel grumbled as he stretched his back from a long day in his office.  The chair was uncomfortably comfortable and Lucifer knew it.  He shouldn’t have fallen for Lucifer innocently changing his old chair with the new one.  He had thought foolishly that maybe he had finally gotten on his brother’s good side.  But, alas! The puffy dark purple cushions deflated on impact and revealed shockingly cold metal underneath.  Like many things in Hell, it was only an illusion, and the chair seemed fancy from a distance but when Castiel actually sat on it, it was ruined.  His back and wings ached from the uncomfortable position for the long periods of time, usually a whole Hell week._

_Castiel walked up to the large blood red doors that were-- at least-- two stories high.  They were the doors to Lucifer’s throne room and led to his private dwellings inside.  Unfortunately Castiel lived with Lucifer as well.  His brother hadn’t quite trusted him yet, at least, not completely._

_He saw a young blonde woman crouching in a corner by the big doors.  She was crying softly and clutching at her stomach.  She had seemed….familiar.  He stepped a little closer before he realized just where he was.  Hell was full of miserable souls, and Castiel couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.  Gone were the days of raising souls from perdition._

_“Hey you,” Castiel called out to her and she slowly looked up.  “You better scram or otherwise the guard dogs might come.”_

_“My name is Talbot, Bela Talbot, and just leave me alone,” she sniffled, and squeezed into herself more._

_Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here, then?”_

_“I signed up for the program, okay?! I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Bela said bitterly, and Castiel’s blood boiled as he thought about ‘The Program’ that Lucifer had created recently.  There was a shortage of monsters in the world, since they were all eaten by the Croatans.  Very few had escaped, only to be quickly discovered and killed as well.  Lucifer wanted to recreate the monsters of the Old, much like the Leviathans, but big and tall enough to topple Sky-Cities out of the sky and crush every ruined city on Earth to dust.  The best solution was to incubate the monsters from demons, and hellspawn always grew up to be abominations, tough and crueler than every type of monster combined._

_She should be left alone, really, it was for the best.  If she was going to sit there and cry until the guard dogs came and_ _tore her to shreds, and lose her baby in the process, that was her fault.  Castiel looked away from her and put his hand on the ivory doorknob, but….._

_He pushed away from the door and crouched in front of her.  “Listen to me, Bela Talbot, I’m sure we all very much appreciate your sacrifice, but if you don’t leave right now,” he said firmly, “You are going to lose the babies inside of you.”_

_She stared at him with wide brown eyes before shakily standing up and straightening her shoulders, and he stood up with her._

_“Let me guess.  You were a cold, greedy, probably intelligent woman in your past life.  I’ve seen similar souls but yours is brighter than most of them.  I want you to use that intelligence.  This isn’t a normal pregnancy- you can shape what kind of monster it shall be.” Castiel swallowed thickly, but it had to be said.  “Make sure it will have the strength to kill humans and angels alike.”_

_Bela’s eyes glinted in the constant firelight.  He could see her cogs running as she turned around and walked away in the large hall that led to the rest of Hell.  Castiel forced away dark thoughts about the very far limits of human imagination and burnt wings on the ground.  He couldn’t afford to think like that, not when he had larger plans to make._

 

* * *

  **Year 2234**

 

Pain.

Castiel awoke to soft sheets wrapped around his bruised body.  His mind was muddled as pain came in waves with each movement he made.  Opening his eyes seemed too much to ask for at the moment and so he just decided to suffer in the dark.  He couldn’t hold in his pained moans as he wiggled in the soft bed sheets.  They were certainly not Lucifer’s-- too clean-- and they smelled musty, as if they were used for many years.

Suddenly, the wonderful aroma of tomato soup filled his nostrils, only millimeters away.       His mouth watered.  There were firm hands moving him.  He gave loud pained protests until he finally settled propped upright with a bunch of pillows behind his back.  The coolness of a spoon bumped against his lips and he opened for the spoonful of soup.  Normally he would have despised the babying, but he was too tired and weary to even make another sound.  His mind was still in a haze, sluggish and slow.  The spoon only slowed in its task as voices murmured just out of his hearing, but he couldn’t make the effort to piece it out.  After another few spoonfuls, he felt the dark calling him out again and didn’t struggle as sleep dragged him into blissful blackness.

++++

Castiel gave a sleepy groan as sunlight filtered in from an open window, rudely shaking Cas out of his very much missed sleep.  He could barely remember the last time he had slept for so long and so deep.  He looked at his surroundings.  He was sleeping on the bottom of a bunk bed and he seemed to be in a small, modest home.  Different bands and car posters took up the white walls with a few personal pictures tacked up, the faces of which he could barely make out.  Everything was out in the open, and the only doors to be seen were the front and back door, which were wide open, along with the bathroom off to the corner.  The kitchen window curtains fluttered in the breeze as clouds drifted by, and Castiel could see the white porch that circled the house from the front door that was directly in his line of sight.       

Castiel sat up and stretched his back, popping all of his stiff bones, including his hidden bony wings, until he gave a satisfied sigh.  He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up on his legs.  It felt good to move.  Another glance around showed that there was a laundry basket full of dirty clothes in the corner next to the bathroom, in the corner next to the front door, and a kitchen that has seen better days.       

No one was home?

Castiel shrugged as he grabbed his folded suit along with his trenchcoat draped over the back of a chair that was situated next to his bed.  He winced as he tried to change from his borrowed grey sweatpants and a black ACDC t-shirt.  Later, then.

Castiel went into the kitchen, stepping from the tan carpet that mostly took up the house and onto the cold green tiles.  He winced at the sudden temperature change.  He didn’t search the kitchen for very long as he saw a crisp burnt piece of toast left cooling in the toaster, and as humans say, finders keepers.

Quickly gobbling up his breakfast, he warily stepped to the front door.  Black with white edges, it was made of traditional wood instead of the usual scrap metal that people used nowadays.  He walked onto the also-wooden porch.  He could tell it was painted white, but now the paint was flaking after many years.  He let out a gasp and grasped tightly to the nearby door frame.  The house was floating hundreds and hundreds of miles above the earth, the nearest Sky-City a pinprick just below them.       

“Hey there, looks like you’re awake.”

Castiel swiveled his gaze from the nauseating heights to look at Dean Winchester beaming at him with his signature grin.

_No._

_It can’t be._

_That’s---_

**_Dean._ **

His heart stuttered as he saw the familiar freckles and bright green eyes filled with life, not yet stomped on and heavy with the weight of the horrors he’s seen over his short lifetime.       This man before him seemed unaware of how cruel the world could be, as if he’s never…..oh.

“You’re lucky that I was passing that building when I did, or otherwise you would be a pancake on that concrete.  First time I’ve met someone new on my own roof. I dunno if it really counts or anything since you were conked out… I’m babbling now, so I’m just gonna get to my point,” Dean gestured wildly as he ran his mouth to a shocked Castiel.

“What’s your name?” Dean finally asked after breathing in a large breath.

“C…….Emmanuel,” he said hesitantly, stuttering out a name he hadn’t used in so long.  Absentmindedly Castiel thanked bouncybabynames dot com and lovely Daphne, her gentle soul resting in Heaven now.

 

* * *

  **Year 2109**

 

_Castiel hungrily drank in the grey skies and ruins of what once was Las Vegas.  Buildings no longer shined in the sunlight, and vines creeped up the walls.  Nature gradually taking back what was hers._

_Today was the first time that Castiel was allowed to be topside, but of course, Lucifer didn’t quite trust him yet and told him, with a threat to break more of his wings, to hold his hand like a young child with his mother.  He didn’t care that it was humiliating.  He was back home._

_Finally, after nearly six hundred hell-years of constant torture, he had finally given up all sense of protest and Lucifer had given only one command to prove his worth: Break one of Hell’s brightest soul in less than an hour without raising a razor.  Sure enough, an hour later, Castiel was well and truly broken- because it was the soul of Sam Winchester._

_Lucifer gave a crooked smile as he swung their intertwined hands.  His demon bodyguards surrounded the two of them--it wasn’t that Lucifer needed protecting, but rather he didn’t want to dirty his hands if they just could be taken care of by some demon twisting their head.  And that was that._

_“Why did you bring me?” Castiel asked softly.  He shifted uncomfortably, his wings permanently gnarled and now always dragging behind him._

_“I’m killing the humans off, so we can have all of this to ourselves.  You’ll be in charge of Hell, and I’ll do whatever I like to Earth.  I’m just showing you how this works,” Lucifer replied._

_Castiel’s head shot up, “Exterminating humanity? Brother! I would rather die than help you do this,” he said with hardened eyes._

_“Why?”_

_“Because…..” Castiel trailed off as they walked around a corner in the street.  He stared at a small group of people on their knees held at gunpoint by demons, all of them looking grim as some prayed or begged for mercy._

_“No, please, do tell.  If I like it, maybe I’ll let these maggots go.  Maybe,” Lucifer said in a false, cheery voice.  Castiel knew it was pointless to try.  He just wanted to get his hopes up before pretending that he hadn’t said such a thing and shoot them.  But yet….. He looked at each of the survivors.  Mostly they were in their young twenties and thirties, but there was one old man, his grey eyes hard and flinty.  He stared at Castiel unlike the others that kept their eyes to the floor.  Castiel felt tempted to tell Lucifer to shoot him first.  The man wanted to be killed off._

_“Because, the angels--Michael, need a reason to come back from their cushioned chairs, and if you allowed a second apocalypse, you would need the humans to do a very simple thing: procreate until the time is right.  After all, Lisa Braeden lied when she said Ben wasn’t Dean’s, and he’s still alive.  He has already made a successful attempt,” Castiel said coolly to Lucifer, his eyebrows shot upwards._

_“Is there anything you want, Castiel?” Lucifer finally asked after a long silence, his tone soft and genuine.  It took a few seconds for Cas to realize that he was rewarding him.  This was a rare chance.  Normally Castiel didn’t have choices at all, but Lucifer was offering him options, albeit very limited.  If he asked for something that Lucifer didn’t approve of, he had no idea what the consequences could be._

_“I want you to look like your previous vessel, at least publicly, and destroy all records of who your true vessel is.  They’ll find out at the very last second possible,” Castiel said coldly as he calculated how to completely erase the truth if Sam was reincarnated.  This time, Sam would be able to fulfill his destiny as the Boy King._

_“Oh ho ho ho, Cassie, I think I like this side of you.  You should show it more often.” Lucifer winked as he nodded to his soldiers.  The gunshots echoed in the silence followed by the hollow thumps as souls left their bodies.  Castiel watched as the body of Sam Winchester shimmered into Nick.  It was, of course, an illusion that only the people that witnessed the change would forever see past, and see the true vessel underneath._

_“Kill the demons too.  I did say **all** records need to be erased,” Castiel said as he intertwined his other hand into Lucifer’s free hand, making them face each other as they ignored the telltale red white flashed of the demons around them smote within seconds.  Now, Cas was the only one that knew with his own two eyes that he didn’t really look like Nick.  He still saw Sam’s face staring back at him with a cruel smirk… as if nothing changed at all except for the telltale shimmer around the edges.       _

_“I think this first day went well, don’t you?” Lucifer wrapped an arm around his waist and strolled through the bodies as if they were a lovely couple on a walk._

_“Yes.” Castiel answered as he stepped over the old man’s body.  Sacrifices had to be made, and it was their fault to get caught in the first place.  It didn’t matter that he felt a pang of guilt for them.  They were probably in a better place now, and Castiel would do **anything** to survive and see Dean again, at least one more time.       _

_Cities were burned and razed to the ground the following year.  Castiel had argued that the Winchester Gospels weren’t to be touched.  After all, the art on the cover of the books wasn’t accurate at all.  Lucifer had relented sullenly.  He had only caved in since it would give humanity some hope in their desolate world, and he would enjoy crushing it._

 

* * *

  **Year 2234**

“Emmanuel, huh? Strange name,” Dean teased with a cocky grin as he swung his legs over the edge.       

“God is with us.”

“What?”

“That’s what ‘Emmanuel’ translates to in English.  It’s strange.” Cas gave a bitter smile as he recalled memories of praying to a father that was never there.       

“You’re weird, I like that. Reminds me of my big brother.  He’s a book worm, too.” Dean gave a proud smile, and Castiel clutched the doorway with white knuckles.  He had waited for so long, and he was here.  Alive.

Sam was a big brother now.  Strange, but not entirely unpleasant.

“What’s his name?” His voice cracked toward the end.

“Sam, but I like to call him Sammy, and it annoys the hell out of him.  Big brothers, what can you do?” Dean joked but after no reply, he shifted nervously on the porch.

Dean Winchester, Righteous Man and owner of one of the most beautiful souls in Creation, was nervous.

“Where are we?” Cas finally asked quietly.

“Somewhere above and between Sky-Chicago and Sky-Dallas,” Dean replied and pointed with a finger to the two cities lazily drifting by below them.  It was maybe few hundred miles give or take.

“Do you have a telephone?”

“Yeah, bottom drawer of the cabinet on your left in the kitchen,” Dean said with a wave of his hand.  Castiel tore himself away from Dean and walked back inside to get the telephone.  He needed to make a very important call.  Castiel shivered as he stared at the innocent looking black cord phone that was plugged into the wall, and took in a sharp breath in a feeble attempt to calm himself down.       

 _Snap out of it! This is good, Castiel.  Now make the damn call, this has to happen._     

Cas took another breath and cleared his mind of doubts and traitorous thoughts to just take Dean and Sam right now and never look back.  He needed to make this quick.  Any phone with wires could be traced easily, and he didn’t need to drag Dean back into this fight.  At least, he would protect Dean from ‘what’s out there’ for as long as he could, possibly to the very last minute.       

“Did you find it?” Dean yelled from the other side of the house.

“Yes I did! Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied quickly.

“You alright? Who’re you calling?”

“My….brother,” Castiel answered as he put a hand onto the machinery.  He knew that if he looked into a mirror, his eyes would be their usual sickly yellow whenever he performed magic.  It only took a moment for Cas to rearrange the phone number into something else.        After all, better a stranger’s number to be traced than Dean’s.  He waited patiently as he listened to the rings, then a sharp click.

_Hello, this is the line for the Father of Lies, how may I take your call?_

_“Father of--oh nevermind,” he gave an exasperated snort, “I need to talk to my brother.”_

_Brother? Oh, I’m sorry sir, I didn’t recognize--_

_“I said I need to talk to him.”_

_Of course, sir, he’ll answer in a jiffy._    

Silence.

Click.

“Hello, brother.  Care to tell me where you went? Is someone holding you hostage? I can send countless demons with just one word.  Just tell me!” Lucifer growled angrily from over the line.

“I’ll be home by nightfall, and it’s starting,” Castiel finally said when Lucifer took a breath, and hung up in the middle of his loud protests and questions that he couldn’t answer.  Not yet.  Castiel took a shuddering breath and recollected himself.  He released the metal tang of magic in the air, and knew instinctively that the yellow from his eyes was gone.       

Suddenly he heard a slam from the other side of the house, where Dean said something happily and another voice replied in the same cheer.  A voice that Castiel knew all too well; Sam Winchester.

“Hey Emmanuel! This is my older brother, Sammy, he got us some breakfast,” Dean said as Cas stood up and turned around to face them.  Sam had his patented ‘puppy face’ as he carried the mostly white to go bag in his hands.  He wore a black t-shirt with jeans and well-worn sneakers, and dropped the bag onto the table in the middle of the kitchen.       

“What is it?” Castiel asked him as he sat on a nearby stool.

“Blueberry pancakes.”

“I’ve never tried them before.”

“What?!” both of the brothers shouted in unison.

“I had better things to do!” Castiel said defensively. _Like running Hell._

Ignoring his protests, Dean and Sam brought out their best china plate.  It was mostly white with blue flowers lining the edges, and Sam carefully put two pancakes onto the plate and drowned it in syrup that came from a package.  Castiel was sure that none of this breakfast was healthy for anybody, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste as he contemplated giving anonymous funds to whoever made this.  Or even better, he could draw up food regulation laws for all Sky-Cities.  He did have some people with looming demon deals over their heads.

“Where did you get this?” Cas asked curiously as he slowly cut off a piece of a pancake.

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.  Weird name, since we don’t have roads anymore,” Sam chuckled in amusement.

“Who’s in charge?” Castiel asked politely, but he already knew the answer.

“Ellen Harvelle.  She practically raised us with Bobby, you know? He’s in charge of a boat scrapyard, practically floating in the middle of nowhere between Sky-New York and Sky-Las Vegas,”  Dean explained through a mouthful of pancakes.  It seemed that Dean’s manners were as timeless as ever.       

In the lull of conversation and sounds of messy eating, Castiel stared at the still whole blueberry pancakes, with a piece on his plastic fork hovering in front of his face.  He wondered briefly if he could get sick, abomination or not.       

Well.

Here goes nothing.

Castiel’s eyes flew open as the flavor burst on his tongue and couldn’t stop himself quickly cutting for another piece, and another.  He joined in to the sounds of messy eating.        He now understood why they ate so fast, for they were afraid it would disappear right under their noses.  He moaned loudly as his cheeks bulged with half chewed blueberries and pancakes.  It was downright disgusting but he didn’t care.

“Jesus, Emmanuel, you really going down on it huh?” Dean teased, but moments later he burped loudly and gave them a cheeky grin.  Sam made a disgusted face before burping as well.  Sam coughed sheepishly in embarrassment.       

“Et’s wery-- _mph_ \--” Castiel gulped, “I said it’s very good.”

“Okay I have to ask; why the hell did you jump out the window?” Sam said as he leaned forward on his stool.

“I didn’t _jump_ , I was pushed.  There is a difference,” Cas answered with a touch of a defensiveness.       

“Fine, so why the hell did you get pushed out of the window, Emmanuel?” Dean rephrased with raised eyebrows.

“I wasn’t very well liked,” Castiel answered coolly as he tapped on the table exactly three times.  It was always a nervous tick he couldn’t get rid of, no matter what.  However, thankfully, neither of the brothers had noticed and decided not to press any further.

“So you talked to your brother earlier.  What’s his name?” Dean asked politely as he stood up and put the dishes away in the small sink underneath an open window.       

Castiel’s brain stuttered to a stop.   _Shit._

“Uh, Stan, Stan Milton.” Castiel would give himself a facepalm if he could.  Stan, Satan.  It was so easy to see, he wouldn’t surprised if a three year old could figure it out.

“Is Stan short for something?” Sam asked as his nose twitched.  Cas knew Sam well enough in his past life that he knew it meant he was suspicious.       

“Yeesss,” Cas said to stall, “Staniel, which means useless person.”

Dean and Sam burst out into laughter, practically wheezing and choking.  Castiel tilted his head in confusion.  An old habit that probably would never disappear, but he allowed the barest amount of a smile as he considered calling one of his oldest angels in existence, _useless._       

“Okay,” Dean coughed out another giggle, “your parents are weird.”

+++

Soon after, Dean had ushered him back to bed.  Cas protested that he was fine and just needed to walk it off, but Dean didn’t relent.  The light from the open door that led to the porch started darkening and Castiel worried about the agreement that he would be back home by nightfall.       

“Dean, for the hundredth time, I’m fine.  I told my brother that I would be home in a few hours.  He worries a lot and it’s _i_ _mportant_ that I talk to him,” Castiel said as his nose twitched in annoyance.

“Well if it’s that important, then we can call Stan and he can come here and talk to you himself.” Dean rolled his eyes from where he sat on a stool by Cas’ bottom bunk.

“No!” Castiel shouted but in a lower voice, “I mean no thank you, I don’t want to inconvenience him.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and flicked to Sam’s place on the top bunk, studying away for his fifth year of lawyer school exam.  “Inconven--dude’s your brother, man,” Dean whispered not very quietly.

“So?” Castiel replied harshly and shoved off of the bed.  He walked by Dean quickly, taking advantage of his shocked stupor.  By the time Castiel had reached the porch, his back stung with phantom pains and his legs ached as he sullenly heavily leaned on the door frame for support.  Castiel saw grey clouds rolled over a small black and silver boat, anchored to the house by a rope tied to a pillar on the white porch.  In sharp cursive, silver letters on the side, it read ‘ **Impala** ’ with the familiar symbol of anti-demonic possession next to it--almost like it was decorative.       

Frankly, it made Castiel sick, seeing too many similarities and differences from his past life and this new one.  It made him want to scream.  Were the lives of Dean and Sam Winchester forever doomed to play out the same thing over and over, or were their fates of being vessels only arbitrary, and this was their true fate? Forever fighting whatever threatened their family in an illusion of free will?       

Who was Castiel in this charade? Certainly no longer the angel that would raise Dean from perdition, but perhaps now, he had taken the role of the enemy.       

He should leave, now.       

“Emmanuel! Wait, it’s cold out there, at least wear your coat,” Dean said worriedly as he tugged on his trenchcoat for him, now freshly washed of blood and sweat.  Cas pushed him away and with shaky legs, he walked to the edges of the porch, his coat billowing dramatically behind him in the brisk wind currents.

“Hey, you shouldn’t get too close, you might--SHIT!” Dean yelled as he rushed over to lean over the railing, and watched Castiel falling toward the Croatoan-filled Earth below, no Sky-Cities nearby to catch him.       

+++

 _“Denuntiamus autem vobis, Belial, ad portas inferni!”_ Castiel chanted loudly over and over as the world below came closer with each second.  As he saw buildings grow bigger than a dot, he heard a faint crackling in his ears like static.       

 **Castiel, where are you?** A deep voice spoke in Latin, reaching through the faint connection.

 **I passed by Sky-Dallas, and I see buildings below** , he answered in the same ancient language, and scanned the area beneath while he waited.       

 _There!_ Castiel could see a faint glow of red from somewhere ahead of him, a red circle glimmered in the setting sun behind him.  He gave orders to move Hell’s Portal until it was directly under him, and Castiel could see fiery red circles within, like rings of a tree.  At the very center lied a small hole.  Small enough for two men side by side to fall through, but it would be very tricky to fall into it without touching the fiery walls.  Hell’s Portal was designed to be only accessible from above.  Otherwise the fiery red circles would burn anything that got close.  Sometimes the fire would reach as tall as three stories high.  It made it impossible for intruders to get in.

Cas closed his eyes as he wrapped himself into a small ball.  The rings glowed a dark red before he fell through the gate and darkness enveloped him.

 

* * *

  **Year 2234**

“Wake up,” a voice of an old man said with clear annoyance, and Cas felt something hard kicking his ribs.  He hissed as the hard boot kicked onto his bruises.  Dean had wrapped him in bandages while he was sleeping off his wounds earlier, but Cas could feel they were gone now.       

“Let me sleep, Belial.  I hate using Hell’s Portal,” Castiel growled as he flopped around until he laid flat on his back.

“No can do, boy, Boss is coming here to see you hi’self.” Belial tsked and gave another kick, this time to his left leg.

“I should be the one to call you _boy_.  I am far older than you, and I suggest you cease kicking me or lose both of your legs,” Castiel snarled back and stood up on the old grey cobblestones beneath- the basic building block of everything in Hell like bridges, roads, and even buildings.

“Then what’s with the youngster get up, then?” Belial wrinkled his nose in disapproval as he took in the black band shirt and grey sweatpants underneath his trenchcoat.  Castiel looked down in surprise.  He had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his usual suit and freshly ironed pants.  He looked back up to answer but swallowed the words back into his throat.       

Lucifer had that look on his face that was similar to a mother that waited for hours in the dark for her daughter to come back home with the smell of drugs and sex.

Castiel felt very small in the presence of his older brother.  It was like he was a fledgling all over again, watching from between the legs of older angels.       

“What’s the meaning of this, Castiel?” Lucifer demanded with a sharpness to a voice that made Cas cringe.  He never used his full name, never.  Castiel could see demons skulking in the shadows of the blood red plaza, looks like they had an audience.

“Can we speak somewhere private, brother?” Castiel warned as he glared at the shadows at the corners of his vision.

“Fine, Belial, I want you to clear a path back to the Palace,” Lucifer commanded as he grabbed Castiel’s arm and practically dragged Castiel behind him.  His grip was the same as when he was an archangel, unwavering and stubborn.

“Explain, you have five seconds.”

“Our _plan_ , it’s starting.” Castiel said, shaken.  Lucifer’s shoulders stiffened as the full situation dawned down on him.  Suddenly Castiel felt the sickening vertigo of angelic transport.  He felt himself thrown to the new forest floor, and threw up the last remnants of Dean’s rice tomato soup that he had for dinner.  When Castiel finally got his bearings, he could see Lucifer pacing back and forth next to him, rubbing his hands through his blonde hair and muttering Enochian to himself.

“I thought we had another hundred years, give or take.  This isn’t like her, to regenerate souls so early,” Lucifer mumbled.

“Too late, I saw Dean and Sam Winchester, in the flesh,” Castiel spat out as he rubbed a trenchcoat sleeve across his mouth.

“Where?” Lucifer stopped in the middle of the path he had grounded into the earth.       

“That isn’t important.  I saw them before the Hunters tried to take me down,” Castiel said as he stared at the ground.  He yelped when he felt sharp bark digging into his back.  He stared directly at golden glowing eyes, the color of grace from a fallen archangel.  Lucifer held him up against the tree trunk.  “Listen to me, _little fledgling_ , you may have made Hell into a reputable realm, but I still have the power to completely reign over it.  With or without you, capiche?”

“I capiche.” Castiel wheezed out as his big brother leaned onto his rib cage.  He felt his body made a sick thud on the ground as Lucifer finally let go.       

“Cassie, I believe you’ll need to take a page out of Ruby’s old playbook.  Don’t get attached and do your job.  Remember, this Dean Winchester is not the same one that dug his claws into your wings and made you human.   _Don’t_ fall for his silver tongue again,” the archangel warned as he crouched next to him and pulled his head up painfully by the hair.       

“I believe that Ruby had poisoned Sam with her blood, and last time I checked, I don’t have demonic blood,” Castiel argued with a fierce expression in his eyes.  Lucifer just looked at him and tsked disappointedly.  All at once, he let go of his hair and flitted across the clearing.  Castiel managed not to break his nose as well with his quick reflexes.

“The plan was your idea in the first place.  Finish what we started and wait until ol’ Mickey comes back radiating his righteous fury and brimstone.  Well, at least that what’s he thinks he’ll do, but thanks to you, I’ll win this time,” Lucifer said assuredly.       

“But!” Lucifer gasped dramatically, “Dean should’ve been identified from the very start.  We have top grade cameras in every hospital, and what’s even worse, Sam hadn’t been identified either.”

Castiel stood up and wiped off the mud and twigs with as much dignity as he could as a few beats of silence passed.  Lucifer waited patiently with a bored expression and lazily leaned on the old tree like a stoned delinquent.  Castiel slowly looked up into Lucifer’s eyes with clouded yellow pupils.  He spoke dangerously in a low voice that would have made Lucifer proud in any other circumstance.

“We hadn’t expected them for at least another hundred human years, so the lower downs haven’t been keeping a close eye.  I would like to have permission to deal with this swiftly and investigate why soldiers came after me.  How does the saying go? If you want something done right, you do it yourself,” Castiel said with a snarl of his lips, standing ramrod straight with almost a defiant edge.  Cas didn’t waver or flinch as Lucifer circled him, looking him up and down before finally standing still in front of him.  He leaned in close with his normal brown eyes slightly shining at the edges, into Castiel’s own yellow ones.  He was close enough that he could feel his ice cold breaths puffing softly on his face.

“You have my blessings.  Paint the walls red, my angel,” Lucifer whispered and gave him a small chaste peck on his lips before disappearing with a soft rush of wind.       

Castiel stood there for a few moments before finally turning around to greet Belial, who had been quietly waiting after his brother left.  The old man laid a hand on his shoulder and they, too, disappeared.      

 

* * *

  _ **Year 2014**_

__

_Cas had been sober for four days now, his longest record.  The camp seemed uneased by his stubbornness, instead of the joy they had been expecting.  Dean didn’t say anything but his eyes sparkled instead of their usual dullness.  He had canceled going to the raids, and had let Chuck take his place instead.  Today was September 18th, the day that Castiel had pulled Dean from Hell.  It was a day that Castiel wasn’t likely to forget._

_The two of them laid in the dark of the fourth night, green eyes to blue. Castiel remembered that Dean still had hope to save his brother, albeit a very small one, but it was still there.  Castiel could also recite everything that had happened that day and night, word to word, backwards and forwards.  It was the day that Dean confessed everything to him, all of his fantasies, both sexual and innocent, his dreams and hopes, and especially his darkest and deepest thoughts._

_Somehow, the conversation changed from lamenting about ‘I should have brought Sam a dog’ to ‘What happens after we die?’ and Castiel stared at Dean’s crinkled worry lines.  It took him a few moments to realize that Dean didn’t worry about himself, he never did, that selfless idiot.  Dean was worried about him._

_“Dean, you know that you’ll go to Heaven, I’m sure.” Castiel pecked his forehead._

_“How do you know?!”_

_“Michael isn’t going to risk--”_

_“Michael doesn’t care anymore and I know I pissed off Fate personally, so now I’m not really sure.”_

_“Dean, I’m sure that despite your….past, Heaven will welcome you in.” Castiel idly traced his worry lines with his index finger._

_“What about you?”_

_“What about me?”_

_“Dammit Cas,” Dean mumbled before leaning forward until their foreheads touched._

_“I’m not so sure myself.  Who knows where fallen angel souls go? Or for that matter, where normal angels go?” Castiel asked quietly, biting back his suspicions that he had a one way ticket downstairs._

_“Cas, no matter what, I’ll find you,” Dean promised with a sniff._

_“I’m right here, Dean,” Castiel replied with confusion._

_“You don’t understand.  Both of us are walking dead men.  We’ve been dead since the moment I decided to hunt Lucifer.  I’m sorry,” Dean explained with more audible sniffs.  Castiel understood what Dean needed--no--what he wanted to hear._

_Cas gently pushed his chin upwards until Dean’s beautiful green eyes stared directly at his own._

_“I want you to listen to me very closely, Dean Winchester.  Would you believe that there’s something after all of this? I used to have some high clearance in Heaven.  Only the very top garrisons and the archangels know this.  A soul’s stay in Heaven or Hell; it’s only temporary.  We don’t know where they go, they just up and leave and their personal Heaven fades like the person never lived.  I’ve never told another angel nor soul of this, but my theory is that they have another life.  It works something loosely based off the concept of past lives and lives to come.  Sure, they are new souls being created all the time, but where do the old ones go? How many souls are out there and how many are being recycled or created? My Father never truly destroys anything, and that’s just my theory.”_

_“What’s your point?” Dean grumbled and tried to pull away but Castiel gripped his chin tightly._

_“I said, that’s just my theory, but my belief is a different story.  Dean, I believe in only one thing and that’s you.  I believe that we’ll meet each other again, in other lives.  Fate’s strings have always been a tangled mess,” Castiel finished with a lingering peck on his lips, but pulled away sadly.  Dead men don’t love._

_“Well, I believe that you’ve been smoking too much pot, and probably broke a few screws while you’ve screwed,” Dean snapped and turned onto his other side, his back facing Castiel’s chest._

_The next morning, Castiel found himself in a cold bed and learned during his morning fuck with Rita that Dean had gone out on a raid, no warning at all.  Just up and left._

_Castiel’s longest record of being sober was four days.  He never tried to beat it again and everyone’s hand on the trigger relaxed.  No matter where Dean or Cas had spent the day, they always came back to sleep in their bed.  Sometimes it was just one or both of them that smelled of recent sex and drugs.  No one knew exactly what their relationship was, but Castiel didn’t care.  He knew he would follow Dean to death’s doorstep and gladly greet the horseman with a handshake and a grateful grin._

 

* * *

  **Year 2234**

  

“So he just jumped. Again?” Sam raised an eyebrow in that annoying ‘Are you sure you aren’t drunk?’ kind of way and it was just getting Dean pissed.

“Yeah! The dude just jumped off the side of the porch and didn’t mind that he was gonna land on goddamn Earth!” Dean exclaimed as the anger faded into worry, as mental images of the surprisingly hot dude became a bloody pancake.  Even if he did survive, he was dinner for Croats.

“Well, maybe he was drunk.” Sam shrugged. Dean’s face smoothed out into a calm and serene expression similar to one experiencing complete bullshit.  

“Sammy, we haven’t had domestic liquor for over five decades.  Even the goddamn black market is getting short on it,” Dean snapped back.

“Dean, I think you’re overreacting a bit.  I mean, we helped him the best we could, but maybe that wasn’t enough. Emmanuel was probably suicidal or something. I don’t believe he was just ‘pushed’,” Sam answered softly.  That kid had been reading too much of those psychology books, _seriously_.

“Well, fine, I’m just gonna go to bed--”

“Wait! I call d--”

“Hahaha! Not today, Sammy, I get top bunk,” Dean declared as he jumped onto it with one swift move, but made a face as several book spines pressed into his stomach, and just pushed them off ungracefully.

“Croat,” Dean laughed.

“Demon,” Sam bit back petulantly, but hid a smile behind one of his books.  It was an old childhood tradition, and Ellen would probably smack them on the back of their head for their language.

+++

Dean tossed and turned in his sleep, dreams plagued with deep blue eyes and the shadowy silhouette of something or someone falling in the distance.  He woke up with a gasp as felt sharp claws digging into his chest and legs, and the sound of heavy animalistic breathing.

It was around mid-morning, the sun softly filtering in through the curtains, with only Sam’s annoyingly loud snores interrupting the beautiful morning.  Dean spent a few moments getting his breathing and heart rate back to normal.

“Man, I haven’t had a nightmare like that since I was a kid,” Dean whispered as he groggily rubbed his eyes, the pain from his dream fading with each moment.  He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and landed on the floor with a soft thump.  He walked to the kitchen and toasted two pieces of bread, mostly out of habit.

“Sammy, rise and shine! Breakfast is ready, big bro.” Dean quickly grabbed the corners of each piece of bread and threw them onto paper plates.  He swaggered to Sammy and waved his plate in front of his face, wafting the enticing smell of good ol’ bread and butter.

“Ugh, five more minutes, Mom,” Sam mumbled before turning onto his other side.  Dean grinned as he realized this was a very rare day that the geek wanted to sleep in, and quietly put the plates onto the nearby table.

Dean stared down at Sam, carefully going through a list of pranks he could do.  There was always the classic, putting his hand in water, but they weren’t rich enough to afford a plastic bowl and plus Dean was the one to clean the sheets daily.  He could draw something on Sam’s face but then that meant hunting down for something that wasn’t a pencil and then washing it off, using up some of their water supply.

Dean frowned as he realized it was far too much work and just decided to push his big bro out of bed. Sam squawked in indignation as he tumbled in a mess of bedsheets. Sam stood up with hair sticking every which way.

It wasn’t fair that Dean managed to tower over the ladies but the second Sam walked in, they all flocked toward the bigger brother.

“You’re so mean.” Sam said childishly .

“So can we just watch the news now?” Dean rubbed at Sam’s unruly hair.

“Say please.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, _please?_ ” Dean said in his most sarcastic voice. Frigging gigantor.  The two of them went to the small TV that was about the size of a shoebox and pulled up the antenna.  They gave it a few slaps until the white noise turned into good ol’ black and white.  There was talk that there were hundreds and hundreds of channels in the past, but nowadays there were only two channels depending on the region- the local channel and the national channel.

“This is nine AM news, and in today’s stories, there has been TAN--Castiel Novak--babies and puppies everywhere!” the TV sputtered out with cracky audio as the image of a news anchor glitched every five seconds.

“I don’t know why we bother with this old thing,” Dean said as he leaned over the counter and pulled the plug, and then re-plugged it in a few seconds later.  It was the only way to make it work.  They waited as the TV blinked back to life, this time in technicolor like it was _supposed_ to, and a woman clad in a purple dress, probably worth around at least fifty of Dean’s wool blankets appeared.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon, welcome to the Sky Center, your amazing local channel and for all of you fliers tuning in, welcome!” The woman gave a plastered smile, her teeth shining like the sun.

“Today, the TANAS’ corporation that’s funding our humble station would like to give an announcement to every single one of you out there.” The woman smiled even wider, and she cleared her throat as she held her papers upwards.

_There are common reports of Hunters seen in our own cities.  It’s nothing to worry about, since those are being trained, and they will be moved to a more discreet location due to the public unease.  Also, if you smell sulfur on the Edges, please report it to your nearest Hunter’s station.  It signifies an unwanted gas leakage in the engines and it would be important that you do so. And always remember that the TANAS’ company provides everything you need, and Mister Novak will always support the people. Have a nice day, Sky America._

Dean shut the TV off.  The news was always the same. Novak this, and Novak that.  In fact, the TANAS company went back for decades.  It was the first business to emerge from the ashes of the Apocalypse.

“What a bunch of phewy.  It’s always been the same. Who knows if that company owns freaking everything, like Big Brother?” Dean said bitterly.

“Big Brother?”

“Yeah, it’s from this amazing dystopian book called 1984.  It reminds me of a lot of things around here, you should read it.”

“What things?” Sam prodded with suspicion.

“Like I dunno, a large company that sees all and knows all. People disappear to god knows where and everybody is afraid to speak about it. And there’s something called a ‘totalitarian’ state.”

“Dean, thats a _banned_ word.”

“Weird, that book mentioned a lot about banned books and information.”  

“Dean, have you been reading those books again? I told you not to! We could get killed! I don’t understand why you gotta be so suicidal for a stack of paper!” Sam growled as he stormed outside to the porch to sit there, brooding in anger.  It was one of their more common arguments. Sam always was the do-gooder and read the government issued textbooks, but Dean read the ones from the black market.  Sometimes Sam was too much like Dad, stubborn into his ways, and he always fought another’s view.  Actually, now that Dean thought about it, Mom read him stories that weren’t exactly to the government’s standards, or ahem, to TANAS standards.  Every single good boy and girl had to read the Winchester Gospels, regardless of religion or status, but Mom always tucked in him at night and read his favorite story ‘Sam I Am’, since it had his older brother in it.

“Whatever, dude,” Dean scoffed to himself, ignoring the tinge of hurt.

+++

It was around noon that Dean finally grabbed two bottles of their finest orange juice, with no pulp whatsoever, which added a note of fanciness.  The sun was high in the sky, and the white porch roof provided a cool shade against the heat.  Their house drifted lazily over the Atlantic Ocean.  Dean only knew that since there used to be some old crinkly old maps in his Mom’s drawer.  In fact, drifting over oceans made him less jittery than when he flew over land.  It made him feel like the sky was all around him on sides, going on forever.

“Hey Sam, want some OJ?” Dean asked quietly as he sat next to him, dangling his legs over the edge.

“Sorry, for snapping at you earlier.  I can be such a dick,” Sam answered as he took the orange juice without looking at it.

“Yeah.” Dean said as he took a small sip.

“You know, Mom, she was--”

“Please don’t, just don’t you dare.”

“Sorry, it’s that you two were pretty close, practically partners in crime.”

“So?”

“Listen, Dean, I’m glad that you decided that you didn’t want to become a Hunter like Mom and Dad. I don’t know what I’d do if you were out there,” Sam said as he drained the last of the juice and set it behind him.

“Sammy….”

“I mean it! I don’t wanna lose my little brother to those sick people, living in the pockets of the TANAS company,” Sam said a little louder, the signs of an argument on the horizon.  Dean decided to keep his trap shut.  No use getting into another heated argument when he was trying to mend the last one.  Neither of them said anything, both of them lost in what-if’s and what could have-been’s.

“Sorry,” Sam said barely over a whisper.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said and meant it.  He went inside to pull on sweatpants and quietly jumped into their space-boat, The Impala, or Baby, as he affectionately liked to call it.  Dean sat in the leather upholstery as he pulled and twisted different buttons of all sizes and shapes.  It was a beautiful mash-up of different machines salvaged from the Ruins.  As Dean gave a final twist of a button that used to belong to a oven, the engine started up and started hovering a few feet above the porch railing.  Dean yelled out to his older brother, who was always a worry-wart, that he’ll _try_ to get back home before sunset.  Then he untied the last of the gnarly knots of the rope that anchored the sky-boat to the house and soared off to the wonderful blue skies.

+++

Dean wasn’t a poet but that line from one of those TANAS propaganda posters seemed really relevant now as the wind roared around the Impala.  It said something-something about throwing the shackles of the past and blah blah, but the point is, Dean felt free.  Free from whatever he wanted, his parents’ death, the recent argument with Sam, hell--even that Manny guy, all seemed to fade away.  He let out a euphoric whoop as he twisted the boat expertly in tight loop-de-loops without falling out.  It was an amazing, but very dangerous feat.  Dean would never admit it, but he longed for a purpose.  He knew on a soulful level (he’d die of embarrassment if Jo ever heard that) that there was something more to this life.  He had his heart set on becoming a Hunter ever since he was a toddler, growing up with the stories of heroes and monsters.

Dean pulled the bent joystick, aiming Baby toward the calm and smooth sea.  This was favorite thing in the whole world.  It was the only thing that he looked forward to on his daily sky-boat runs.  He pushed the joystick at the very last second with all the force he could muster, making the Impala fly just barely over the water.  The name sky-boat was only just a name- it did no actual swimming of any kind other than air.

“Dolphins! Oh man, I haven’t seen those things in a while, what’s up dudes?!” Dean shouted to them as they followed the boat, probably doing the job as they always have done for generations.  They were faithful companions, and sometimes even guided wayward ships back to shore. The dolphins chirped and Dean answered back as if they had an actual conversation.  Usually dolphins were much better than Jo when he needed to rant.

“And another thing! Sam said ‘sorry’ like five freaking times, but no siree, _sorry_ doesn’t cut it, Sammy!” Dean yelled as he waved a finger around as if he was scolding an imaginary Sammy.

“Chirp chirp?” one of the dolphins (which Dean named Emma) chirped in response.

“Hold on!” Dean said as he held up a finger and sneezed, “Sorry, I’m allergic to bullshit,” Dean yelled in surprise as suddenly water shot out of Emma and drenched him.

“Emma! You could’ve hit the machinery and then this thing would have sunk in like two seconds flat and I would drown. Thanks, Emma,” Dean said sarcastically, but it fell short due to the fact he was trying to hide a grin.

“Chirp,” Emma squeaked and it seemed that was a signal of some kind because, all at once, the dolphins left and it was just Dean.

“Thanks, I really needed to hear that,” Dean said as he grabbed a towel and wiped himself down until he wasn’t dripping wet anymore.  Dolphins were amazing, and it didn’t matter to Dean that he might be crazy talking to them.  They were like a mirror that allowed him to see himself in a new light.

 

+++

It was nearly twilight when Dean came back to the floating house.  He made quick work tying the boat to the porch and shutting off the main engine.  Sam was gonna be pissed that he got back so late, but he hoped that the bundle in his hands would make up for it. Dean rummaged high and low down there in the Ruins.  It was gonna help them the next time they needed to do another one of their heists. It was one of those old tech handheld computers that you could just wire into an electronic lock and then it would unlock itself. It was gonna be way easier to use this thing instead of avoiding the locks altogether.

“Dean?” a voice came from a shadowy figure on the top bunk, barely visible in the moonlight.

“I got you a present, Sam,” Dean replied as he set the bundle on the table, an audible thump in the silence. He walked into the kitchen, and avoided the sharp edges of cabinets from well worn memory. He squatted on the tiled floor and dug into the back of a bottom cabinet, until he finally pulled out a single candle. He closed the cabinet with a kick, and pulled a drawer open for a match, and a few seconds later, the kitchen was aglow with light. Dean quickly grabbed the rusty candle holder in the drawer as well and padded softly to the table where Sam was sitting.

“What?” Sam said with a touch of irritation.

“Well, you know how in the TANAS buildings, they have those passcode locks and we never touch them?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I finally found a passcode breaker.  I remember seeing these babies in Terminator, when John Connor was a little hooligan,” Dean explained as he untied the bundle and put the handheld device on the table, revealing different wires and a blank screen.

“Dean…..how?” Sam said breathless, all traces of anger gone.  Only awe remained.  Dean would’ve preened if he had feathers.  He didn’t hesitate to admit that he liked having his older brother’s respect.

“We could go right now.  It’s dark and we could test this thing out. Come on, we all know those TANAS guys aren’t gonna miss a thing,” Dean suggested with a waggle of eyebrows.

“Yeah, but….” Sam said hesitantly.  He had that look on his face that probably meant nothing good.

“It’s been ages, Sammy! Besides, Manny crushed my garden, and who am I to say no to free food?  Plus, we never get caught!” Dean tried to convince his older brother, hoping against hopes that they would do a raid tonight.

“I don’t know, Dean. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that there’s always plenty of food, but it’s barely touched….ever?” Sam countered with a raised eyebrow, and the both of them sat there quietly as they remembered past raids.  Sam was right.  Even when they went to the same TANAS building two nights in a row, they always replaced what they lost like it was just a display.  There were never any labeled lunch bags in the refrigerator, just containers of food, and there was even a table in the cafeteria full of it, always fresh and hot.  Also, there were windows to the areas that required a passcode, the offices, and there were just computers and bowls on the desks.  It was weird, but Dean chalked it up to high techy stuff, who knows?

“Please?” Dean asked again and pushed the passcode breaker closer to Sam.

“Fine, but we aren’t snooping around, we’re just there for the food.  Plus, we might get enough to sell on the black market.” Sam punched out a sigh and stood up to change into their black raiding gear and camouflage.

+++

Dean and Sam finagled stuff from TANAS all the time. The trick was to never get caught and never take anything that looked weird. The strange food and bowls full of a thick red substance that stank suspiciously of blood were left alone. However, this time Sam tried out their new passcode breaker for an office. Dean was expecting a lot of things, but this wasn’t it. It was just a white space with a white desk and that same weird bowl. It seemed that the offices were nothing to behold, so they replenished their supplies and simply left.  

+++

The next day, the brothers made their usual every-two-week visit to the nearest black market. It was carefully hidden in the tresses and bars that spanned underneath the city.  It was far away enough from the engines that there was no risk of burning up. It was just _incredibly_ hot. Enough that men, women, and even children ran about on the modified catwalks, shirtless, jean shorts with tough leather shoes. There was almost always a black market underneath each Sky-City.  It was sweaty, hectic, and fairly dangerous at all times. But despite all of that, Sam _loved_ it.

“Why don’t you like it, Dean?” Sam asked breathlessly as they walked on one of the catwalks.  It was barely enough room for people to walk side by side.

“It’s gross, Sam! Germs and there’s always plenty of people here that are missing a few cards from their decks, if you know what I mean,” Dean shot back.  He wondered why for the millionth time these people didn’t install handholds of any kind.

“Dean.”

“No, don’t you _Dean_ me, we’re dropping off the food at the Center and then we’ll leave,” Dean said sternly. The black markets were always built the same.  The Center was a circle of metal bars at the very heart of the city; it was actually directly under City Hall. All of the ‘main’ catwalks sprang out from the circle, much like the spokes of a wheel, and it was almost like there was a ‘shadow’ city beneath the cold of the upper one.

“Fine,” Sam said as his shoulders drooped. Oh hell no, Dean lamented as they ducked underneath a low catwalk that ran parallel above theirs. Sam was getting into one of his moods. Dean knew that in a few moments he would be dragged onto one of the smaller paths and would try to haggle with the people at the booths. And then Dean would have to pay for it since as always Sam didn’t bring anything and shook off Dean’s attempts at trying to fix it with “I’m not gonna buy anything”. That liar.

“Sometimes it feels like _I’m_ the older brother here, not you,” Dean teased as they finally made to the most hectic and deafening part of the underworld, The Center.

The original bars that formed the outer circle were large enough to have four people walk side by side comfortably, but unfortunately it was crowded enough that five people could fit in a normal space of two. Dean was at least thankful that there were handholds here, albeit a bit unreliable since they were only ropes slung criss-crossed above their heads, tied onto the floor of the higher paths.

It was midnight and there were oil lanterns strung around the hundreds of ropes of all sizes and colors that were woven above the Center, and in the middle of the circular bars was a makeshift floor. It was long strips of different things that were stolen from the ruins, tin, wood, or even chunks of bricks.  Here were the bigger booths, the ones that were in popular demand always, twenty four seven. The booths were separated by large swaths of fabric, but some were not always lucky.  Some booths had tents made up of entirely bloody clothing or torn up bedsheets.

The large black tent at the very center, it was the heart and mind of the entire black market in the Sky City.  It was the entry to the underworld that spanned across the whole sky, exchanging goods and services with every other black market beneath all Sky Cities.  Dean knew that Sam would go straight to it like a flower to a bee.  It held a plethora of information and goods such as banned books, steak and turkey, and rock salt. Dean always left it up to Sam to get the next two weeks of groceries and reading material, while Dean went off to get more longer-lasting items.

Dean looked at the smaller tents.  He absently made a list in his mind and ticked the items off one by one. When he finally got to one of the higher paths, it was one of those where if Dean stretched he could graze the foundation that made up the city above.

He looked to his left, and slowly came to a stop as he saw the bustle of people going to and fro, the indistinguishable clamors of humanity below. Somehow Dean was comforted by the thought that even here, after the supposedly End of the World, humans were still here by the skin of their teeth and the sheen of their backs. His musings were interrupted when a hand grabbed him by the arm and yanked him hard. Dean yelped as he felt the world shift as he tumbled backwards into a dark tent, landing painfully on his ass.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean growled as he tried to see in the darkness. Suddenly a lantern swung into brightness, making Dean squint as the face of a man stared at him with wide open eyes.

“Your name is Sam, right?” the man asked quickly in a sharp whisper.

“Wha--”

“Listen closely, you were right, something is fishy with the TANAS corporation.” The man looked around again. “It all makes sense, it’s an anagram.”

“Who--”

“Name’s Frank and you better keep your mouth shut, _They_ are everywhere, listening, They look like you and me, but different, don’t think for a second they are human.”

“Ooookay, can I go now, I swear I won’t say anything.” Dean coughed as he leaned back from Frank’s putrid breath.  It was obvious the man hadn’t left this tent for days. But before he could get too far away, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him roughly close again.

“It’s an anagram, it’s a damn anagram, we’ve been so stupid,” Frank repeated to himself more than to Dean.

“What anagram?” Dean asked, feigning interest.

“TANAS! You mix the letters and you get SATAN.  We never noticed because we never bothered to look!” Frank practically shouted before he caught himself. The lamp swung dangerously close to his head as Frank finally stood up.

“You have to leave, Sam,” he said as he opened the tent flap, then put the oil lamp on the floor and turned it off.

“Alrighty then.” Dean got up with a groan, and was about to walk out when yet again, Frank’s hand stopped him.

“Don’t trust any TANAS scum.  They aren’t human, and they will kill you if you try snooping around. It could be anyone you know,” Frank said with a meaningful look in his eyes that Dean didn’t understand. Dean left quickly after that, practically pulling Sam by the ear from the Black Tent, and untied their tethers to the catwalks. Leagues and a sleeping brother later, Dean thought about Manny and wondered if he knew about the possible conspiracy of his higher-ups.

Maybe he was in on it, but Dean threw that thought out the window, Manny didn’t seem like a douche, or whatever ‘not human’ meant.

Or maybe Frank was just crazy.  Yeah that’s probably right, Dean thought.

 

* * *

  **Year 2235**

 

It had been one human year since Castiel last saw the Winchesters.  For all he knew, they didn’t even go by the last name Winchester anymore in this life.  After he got a new office, Castiel had opened the registered database of all sky-boats in his hemisphere.  However, ‘Baby’ wasn’t registered at all.  It was like it never existed.  He cursed in Enochian and opened another window of his old office building footage of the day when the Hunters tried to take him down.

However, there was no luck, only a small glimpse of the floating house on the fringes of a camera looking down onto the walkway right where Castiel would have splatted.  This wasn’t a coincidence, and if Castiel could, he would give Fate the finger and some choice words in dead languages older than Latin.        

He sighed deeply as he ran a hand through his messy black hair and looked around his new office in Sky-San Francisco.  Shinier and more up to the developing times than ever.  Ugh.

Suddenly the TV next to the glass door blinked to life and screamed with the regular morning news report at volumes that should be illegal.  With a sharp twist of his wrist, the picture of the blonde haired girl with dead eyes lagged and sputtered stubbornly until it gave two last crackles and died.

Castiel shrugged his magical grip on the TV until he was sure that it dissipated into nothing more than useless atoms and dug around in his black desk’s cabinets.  Castiel gave a shout of triumph when he found his pink notepad that was labelled with **‘Should Be Illegal’**.  Under the underline were numerous things that he found to be grating on his nerves constantly and weren’t absurd enough to whisper a few things into the government’s ear and have it done within days.

 ~~ _-Crowded Traffic_ ~~  = Scavenged Light Signals  

 _ ~~-Advertisers in the Street~~ _ = Hunter Patrol

 ~~ _-Croats running loose due to Incompetent Fools_ ~~ = Mayor’s Promise to Raise Hunter Standards

 ~~ _-Sound Control_~~ = ????

Castiel tsked with impatience and tucked away the pink notepad.  He swiped across his computer to create an electronic sticky note.  He typed in a reminder to talk with Crowley about his new annoyance, since he had excellent bureaucracy and made deals with the very top of the top, and never missed a single quota.       

However, there was something that bothered Castiel greatly.  No matter how loud he barked up the tree, he never found out how or why the Mayor decided to ignore his command and send Hunters to his office, because shortly after word on the street was that Castiel was very much alive and pissed, the Mayor had shot herself and burned all of her records.  It was a mystery and it deeply unsettled him since he knew that Dean and Sam had returned and apparently passed detection at birth and the rest of their lives so far.

Suddenly the silence was interrupted by a loud bubbling of one of his demonic bowls.  Instantly his eyes turned yellow as he answered the call.       

“This is Castiel speaking, how may I spill your guts today?” Castiel couldn’t help but revel in the sound of the demon’s terrified gasp.  He must be new or something.

“Well uh, sir, we got a lead.  One of our teams was serving at a roadhouse or something and spotted them,” the demon stammered out. Castiel couldn’t help but feel a stab of sadness that the demon sounded so young.  How old was he when he made a deal? Castiel made a face and squashed it down.

Castiel made the movement to stand up but went back to seat, “What roadhouse? Tell me the name exactly.”

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse,” the rookie demon said.

+++

“That’ll be twenty four credits sir, Harvelle’s Roadhouse,” the bored dark skinned taxi driver said, bored, as they idled outside a place that Castiel hadn’t seen in years.  It looked almost exactly the same, with some slight differences.  The paint looked fresher and customers came in and out frequently, so it seemed like a popular place.  Castiel dug out some crumpled money from the inside of his suit jacket and stepped onto the recycled walkway.

“Sir! Wait, these are dated over two hundred years ago, what kind of joke are you--”

“Keep them.” Castiel nodded to him and walked away, ignoring the loud protests and mutters of disbelief.

He stepped into the diner and saw the usual center bar and numerous wooden tables that surrounded it, and also saw that most of the stuff here was scavenged from the ruins.  The tables had mismatching patches of wood and some parts of the ceiling were made up of cheap tin instead of the usual sturdy wood or steel.       

As Castiel looked around, he noticed that a few heads turned around and watched him warily. There was no doubt that Ellen must have had some Hunter connections as he walked over the ratty old rug.  Castiel took a large breath and waited until he was sure that his yellow eyes dissipated.  Walking through Devil’s Traps always made him queasy, and sometimes his eyes gave him away if he wasn’t careful.       

“Emmanuel, what a coincidence! See that you got a new suit,” Dean’s voice said loudly over the classic music from the 1980’s.   

Castiel turned to his left and saw Dean and Sam waving to him enthusiastically from a window booth, and his breath stuttered as he saw a face that he had forgotten, Jo Harvelle.       

“What an amazing coincidence.  I was just dropping by to give Mrs. Harvelle some donations. I feel like she would appreciate it.” Castiel smiled widely and feigned surprise as his gaze landed on the young woman next to him.

“Jo Harvelle, I heard a lot of good things about you.  Your mother must very proud.” Castiel shook her hand firmly with a beaming smile.  All three of them looked shocked.

“My mom? Ellen C. Harvelle? Please! She’s always on my back and she doesn’t give me a break and she’s crazy and just-- _ugh_.” Jo harumphed grumpily and rested her head on a hand dramatically.

“Trust me.  She loves you very much, Joanna.” Castiel wrapped a hand around hers.  He tried to smile but he felt that his sadness must show because Jo looked at him strangely.  He wasn’t there when the hell hounds destroyed what remaining family that the Winchesters had, and Bobby soon followed.

“Anyways,” Castiel took a breath and waves to a waitress, “One bacon cheeseburger for me and water please.”   
“So, it’s been a whole year since we last saw you.  Did you land on another floating house or something?” Dean joked as he took a bite out of his own bacon cheeseburger.       

“Or something,” Castiel said vaguely and ignored him as the red-haired waitress came back with his plate and drink.

“Here you go, sweet angel.” The waitress gave a saucy wink before leaning so that he could see a sole brown freckle just below the shirt line, and whispered quietly into his ear.       

“Listen to me, _whore_ , I am asking you to not blow my cover, or otherwise these sweet old friends of yours will take a very short cut to see my Daddy.”

“Is that a threat?” Castiel whispered back, and he gave a flirty smile as his hand splayed palm down, ready on a moment’s notice.

“Yes,” she said loudly and sauntered off with a roll of her hips with each step.  Castiel had to admit she looked pretty but he had sworn off that sort of thing for years now.  He looked around and realized that two bikers and a lawyer’s secretary had been secretly eyeing the four of them.  They must have been the team that the rookie had talked of.  It must surely have been part of the program that Castiel and Lucifer co-designed a few decades ago.  Put a sleeper cell inside popular places, and more often than not it was the ideal place to catch any rebellious sniffs around the demonic conspiracy behind everything.  Usually talking and listening was part of the job as a waiter or waitress, and once somebody had blabbed what they found, they would disappear within mere hours.

 “Dude, you got her number.  Nice job.  What did Temp say to you?” Sam asked as he pointed toward the slip of paper with numbers written on it.  Underneath it was signed ‘Temptress’ with a cursive flair and a small heart.

“So how often do you guys come here?” Castiel asked as he tucked the number into his coat pocket and picked up his burger for another bite.

“Like on Thursdays and Mondays usually, why?” Dean answered between bites.

“Just asking.”

“So what’s your work?”

“I’m what you call a doctor or janitor in the business and political world.  The actual job title is too long and boring.” Castiel waved a hand in the air as if he was dismissing the subject.

“So, what do you guys do?” Castiel asked.

“Well, Sam is still a student in law school, and I pay his funds through being a mechanic at the scrapyard and work part time here, and Jo sometimes get paid by her mom too,” Dean replied and hastily stuffed his face with a large piece of the burger, as if he didn’t want to say more.       

“Sometimes?” Castiel asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m going to be a Hunter.  My dad used to be one just like their parents over there,” Jo explained as she pointed at the brothers on the other side of the table, “and I’ll be the best ever!”

“What makes you so sure?” Cas asked as he put down his burger.

“My mom has some dusty old books in the back, found on a scavenger run like centuries ago or something.  Bobby has some more too and I’ve been studying them, but if you ask me, it’s a little pointless to study about mythical creatures. Everybody knows that they aren’t real and demons are just an euphemism for evil people.  It’s just sentiment that Hunters are called hunters, like in the old fairy tales,” Jo explained with a roll of her eyes. Cas made a mental note to check the books out.  Who knew what secrets were in there?

“If you don’t believe in them,” Castiel leaned forward slightly, “then why all of the warding in here?”

Jo shrugs, but he could tell she was nervous. “Didn’t I tell you earlier that Mom is crazy? I don’t know.” Castiel leaned back to give her space.  It was true that Jo didn’t know and he didn’t want to raise suspicions.  However it was obvious that Ellen wasn’t very thorough if a demonic sleeper cell was able to come and go without trouble.

Castiel finished the remaining pieces of his burger in a few bites and stood up as he threw a few crumpled bills onto the table, both to pay and a tip.

“Hey Emmanuel, where are you going? You just sat down,” Dean asked, and then made the movement to get up from his seat, but he went still as Castiel raised a hand.

“Where’s that scrapyard that you mentioned? Maybe we’ll meet there next time.” Castiel asked with tone of vagueness.

“Floating somewhere between Sky-New York and Sky-Las Vegas, but that’s a long way to get there from here, Sky-Dallas.” Dean argued. “Plus, you didn’t mention when we’d meet you there and I don’t want you to disappear to god knows where,” Dean finished with a stubborn huff.  The again at the end was unspoken but heard all the same.

“Fine then, I’ll see you again, Dean Winchester, in exactly three months at Bobby’s.” Castiel answered him seriously, all of his practiced charisma gone, and turned around to walk towards the back of the bar.  He pushed through the swinging wooden doors and saw an office down the hall.  Ellen was working her books in the warm lamp light in the room.

“Mrs. Harvelle?” Castiel asked as he knocked on the door frame, carefully not stepping on the Devil’s Trap hidden under the dusty rug set at the entrance.

“Yes?” Ellen looks up from her records and takes a few seconds to realize, “Oh crap.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Harvelle, I’m not here to buy your business.  I’m doing quite the opposite.” Castiel grinned cheekily as Ellen’s white face slowly regained color.

“Donations? I don’t want your blood money.  Every business in the damn sky knows that you work in the shadows and if you don’t get what you want, even the biggest corporations pack up and live six feet under,” Ellen spat out, her eyes sparkling with fury.

“Here’s something interesting. I spotted some interesting designs out there, and I believe they’re of the illegal kind.  Also, I’m sure that there is one right under this rug here.” Castiel kicked it off. “I was right, and Mrs. Harvelle, everyone knows that demons aren’t real.”

“If you want to arrest me, then come and get it,” Ellen replied hotly, but when Castiel made no move, her face morphed into something else.       

“I don’t need to. I can just send an anonymous tip to the Hunters.  I’m sure that they’ll do the job for me,” Castiel said coolly as he dug around in his pockets for his checkbook.

“I have a phone here that you can use.  It’s on the desk next to me,” Ellen answered, but he was too good to fall for a trick like that.  Castiel raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his open checkbook, blue pen in his left hand.

“I don’t trust you.  You’ll try to fight me, or do tests on me to supply your delusions,” Castiel answered as he scribbled quickly in the checkbook and tore off the check with a sharp rip.

“Hey! I said I didn’t want your money, buster,” Ellen snarled.

Castiel looked coldly at the woman with his steely blue eyes. “Do not call me ‘buster’. Refer to me as ‘sir,” he said slowly and dangerously low.

“Here’s your check. I believe 40k credits can pay off your debt to the bank and maybe fund your daughter to school, and I would prefer if it was civilian school instead of the Hunter’s Academy that she wants,” Castiel said in a more cheerful tone. “Jo is a very nice girl. I’m sure you love her very much, and make you see to it that all of these symbols and things like it are gone in less than three months.”

Three months were far too generous, but it it was the same time that the brothers would be out of town to visit him at Bobby’s.       

After that subtle threat, Castiel dropped the check in the middle of the Devil’s Trap and left through the back door without looking back.  He didn’t need to turn around to see Ellen’s face, red with anger and fury.  He knew that Ellen would accept the check nonetheless, but he would be careful around the Harvelles. Ellen could warn her daughter not to trust him and tell her suspicions. Thankfully she had no proof to the rest of humanity.  The supernatural world didn’t exist and Castiel had made sure of that.

+++

“Brother, this is a bad idea,” Castiel warned him, as the two of them leaned over a battle table in the War Room of the Palace.       

“Listen, we need to pick up the slack.  My vessel didn’t get infected with demon blood like he was supposed to!” Lucifer snarled back.

“SO WHAT? That doesn’t mean that Dean has to come here! We’ll find another way,” Castile argued with a loud slam on the table, rattling the colored pieces on the board.

“Castiel, you’re not thinking here.  Snap out of it and start thinking about the big picture.”

“I will _not_ allow Dean Winchester to be the Righteous Man again,” Castiel blurted out with a snap of his bone-bare wings high above him.

“Enlighten me then!” Lucifer said as he paced by the black table. “What do you suggest we do?”

He took a calming breath and lowered his boney wings.  It would be pointless to argue against the apocalypse when he had allowed it to happen.  Castiel thought that it would be best to start on something simple that would distract his boss for a few days when he figured things out.       

“I found some illegal warding in Sky-Dallas.”

“What?”

“Most of it is Devil’s Traps and angelic protection symbols.”

“No, I mean, what? Why are you telling me this?”

“ _Lucifer,_ you know I worked very hard to almost erase all knowledge of the supernatural world.”

“Almost everything.  You know that the Winchester Gospels are still out there.”

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” Castiel said with his shoulders pulled taut, and if he still had his feathers, they would be flaring and puffing up.

“Oh yes, I dare alright.  I specifically agreed with you to erase everything and then you go on yammering on about hope and I allowed it,” Lucifer hissed through his teeth as he pushed Castiel onto the table by his quick grip.  The thud sent the small figures on the table everywhere.

“You told me to hide my vessel, look at me!” Lucifer shouted, “ _Look at me!_ ”

Castiel shut his eyes tight until he felt his head bang hard against the table.  They shot open, blinking up at Lucifer pinning him down with his golden wings flared above him.

“Oh hohoho, yellow eyes always did look good on you, Cassie.  I’m all for whispering in someone’s ears, but I think it’s time that we need a change, and it better be quick.  You and I know that old Nicky here isn’t my true vessel, and I have a feeling that this Sammy is going be better than last Sammy,” Lucifer taunted as he leaned in closer until the shimmer around him flickered into Sam’s body instead.  As the illusion dissipated, it suddenly felt hard to breathe, as if an iron band crushed his lungs down.  He stared into Sam’s brown eyes.  Wrinkles on the edges--unlike the younger version he had seen a few days ago.

Castiel breathed in slowly as he concreted on the feeling of his stomach turning in knots onto the back burner.  There were more important things happening now than petty human emotions.  Once that was done, he looked straight into Lucifer’s eyes and said with all the defiance and fury he had centuries ago as a celestial being instead of an abomination,       

“Let me spell it out for you, _brother_.” Castiel spits out every single word. “I don’t want and will not reveal myself or anything of what’s out there.  Right now Dean wants to be a mechanic and Sam is going to law school.  If they finds out what’s going on then we’ll have a repeat of everything that’s happened in the Winchester Gospels.  Do you want that?”

After his little question, Castiel raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes as if to emphasize it before continuing on in a lower and more mocking tone.

“Better a stupid vessel than a stubborn vessel, big brother,” Castiel said as he wrenched off Lucifer’s arms with no effort, and walked away from the War Room.  He knew what a dismissal looked like and he really didn’t prefer to be here usually after their arguments.

+++

He stood across from the Roadhouse in front of a small coffee shop.  He absently thought of Dean as he stared at his blank phone screen.  It was getting harder to remember his face in the past few centuries but now seeing him again… well, it was taking up all of his self control to not stare at him, though all memories of Dean scolding him for personal space kept him back.  Also, Cas had doubts that this Dean had the same sexuality as his past version, or he was completely 100 percent straight.

All of this thinking made his head ache.  It would have been much simpler if he still could see souls other than just who had made deals or not.       

Well, at least he was supposed to meet Dean and Sam again tomorrow at Bobby’s place.  The scrap yard was hard to find since the vague location of ‘between Sky-New York and Sky-Las Vegas’ didn’t help very much.  His sources took practically all the past three months to find the exact location for Castiel’s sky-boat to land.  Also, he himself was very busy finding ways to improvise and investigate why the computer banks hadn’t identified that Dean had been born.  It was likely that the Winchesters had completely different last names now.  At this thought Castiel huffed to himself, and placed a small bet against himself that the new last name would be named after a gun.

Castiel looked down at his phone again and commanded it with voice control to turn on, and it does, with flashing lights and a cheery voice telling him good afternoon.

“Call Temptress,” he commanded again and it responded with the caller screen.  With a sharp click, the phone call went through.

“Hello darling,” she purred over the background clatter of plates and dishes.

“Are the wards gone?”

“What? No hello?”

“Tell me,” Castiel demanded with an edge of annoyance.

“No, but that anonymous tip you sent in to the Hunters got rid all of the obvious ones.       However, they didn’t arrest her or her daughter and she increased wards in the back of the bar.”

“What kind of wards are in there?” Castiel squinted with thought.

“Not the kind that any demon can slip through.  It’s warded against everything, even for abominations like you,” Temptress answered with a foxy voice as Castiel cursed in guttural Enochian.  He would need to find another way in.

“I may not know the incoherent babble of you angels, but judging by what you said--it’s nothing good.  Sounds like you need a way in, eh?” the sultry demon asked cutely- but not quite what she aimed for.

“Yes, but what do you have in mind?”

“Well, she got all of the obvious ones, so that means anybody can just waltz in, and it’s like 2 am, so it’s practically empty except us and two Harvelles here ready to close up shop,” Temptress said, and Cas could almost imagine the raise of her carefully plucked eyebrow.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, and I don’t want you to move until my signal.  I can’t stress this enough, don’t hurt them.”

“Why not? I haven’t gotten any fun in ages!” she protested loudly, with an audible slam on the other line.

“Well, I’m just doing my job, then,” Castiel said before he hung up with no warning.  He started walking toward the roadhouse.  His trenchcoat fluttered behind him as he opened the doors with ease.  Ellen was behind the bar with Jo lazily sitting on one of the spinny stools, and next to Ellen was Temptress and the other demons sitting at different tables around the bar.  They all looked up at him as he walked in.  Ellen looked suspicious and Temptress fidgeted with wiping already spotless tabletops.  He stopped smack dab in the Devil’s Trap, and didn’t bother hiding the instinctive flick of his eye color.  The other demons saw this as their cue and their eyes flicked ordinary black.  Ellen made the motion to grab a shotgun but Temptress slammed the gun out of her hands with a flick of her hand and grabbed her behind as a biker grabbed Jo away as well.  Castiel walked out of the trap with ease and waited a few moments for the women to calm down.  He was at least pleased that the demons had heeded his instructions.  He had a...certain reputation among disobeyers.  Irony, at its finest.       

“Didn’t I say that you needed to get rid of all of this?  It’s illegal,” Castiel said as he made his way to the fallen shotgun on the gun and picked it up to examine it.

“Regular bullets?  That doesn’t work on demons.  You’re getting sloppy in this life.”  He tsked with disappointment and snapped it in two.       

“I’m at the very least delighted that you’ve taken my donations.  However, you haven’t used them wisely,” Castiel continued before walking closer to Jo, and ignoring Ellen’s brash protests, he gently cradled her jaw upwards.  Castiel took in Jo’s young features.  She was very pretty and no doubt Dean would date her.  He approved of the choice.  However, he sharply tugged her jaw to the left and she cried out as he looked at the uniform anti-possession tattoo just under her ear.  It was just a useless and sentimental symbol with an unbelievable history behind it to ordinary humans, but to people like Castiel, it both made their jobs easier and harder.

“You ignored my advice to send her to civilian school.  Instead you egg her on to Hunter’s Academy.”

“Let me go, asshole!” Jo yelled and twisted her head out his grip.

“What are you?” Ellen asked curiously as she leaned forward as she could in Temptress’ grip, but hissed in pain as the demon pulled her back by the hair.

“Temptress…” Castiel warned with raised eyebrow.

“A girl’s gotta have fun, boss,” Temptress mocked before reluctantly letting go of Ellen’s hair.

“We need to talk about those books of yours.  Where did you get them?” Castiel asked coolly.  Ellen made no indication to talk and Castiel took a step forward toward her daughter.  Manipulation of loved ones was a cliche but it worked.

“Bobby Singer’s.” Ellen spat.

 

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

Castiel stared at the scrapyard on top of a floating hill that was covered with dirt and dead grass. He walked to the house at the center of the scrapyard, warmly lit, and the sounds of laughter came from inside. Castiel considered checking how he looked in the reflection of his phone but he felt that was too silly and vain, and knocked on the door.  The door opened to reveal Dean, shining in the soft light, softened by the happiness in his features.

“Manny!” Dean said as he brightened even further, if that was possible.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel stiffly greeted, his nervousness and social awkwardness worn like an old pair of shoes.  He couldn’t help it.

“Dude, what’s with the formality?  Come in and enjoy the pie!” Dean pulled him in by the sleeve of his trenchcoat. Castiel followed him to the kitchen and saw the two other parts of Dean’s family, Sam and his friend, Bobby.  The old man looked the same as ever, with a few differences such as less wrinkles and the traces of what his hair might have look like before it went gray.

“Who’s your friend?” Bobby gruffly asked.

“This is Emmanuel.  I told you about him,” Dean answered with a faint dusting of pink. Castiel hadn’t seen the man blush.  It was as rare as making Dean admit his feelings.

“Pleased to meet you,” Castiel said as he tried to make his charming smile appear, but it crumbled.  It looked like he couldn’t fool them if he tried.  Dean and Sam looked at him strangely before just shaking it off as Cas sat down in a seat for him. They talked about their most embarrassing moments, and got a good kick out of their beet red faces.  It was after Sam’s story of running stark naked in fourth grade due to a dare, that they finally asked for a story from Cas.

“Well, um,” Castiel stuttered as he recalled dusty memories, “A good friend of mine found out I was a virgin and took me to a brothel.”

“What?!” the three of of them shouted as they gave him a once over, almost expecting the trenchcoat and suit to turn into tight jeans and a v-neck.

“Well, I told Chastity, straight into her eyes, it wasn’t her fault that her father from the post office ran on her,” Castiel told honestly as the men howled with laughter, and as he told that him and his ‘good friend’ were kicked out, they wheezed.  Cas gave a faint smile.  It had been a while since he made someone genuinely happy and not just evoke polite laughter for the sake of the conversation. He relaxed in the warm atmosphere and the alcohol loosened his tongue.  

He stepped onto a landmine without realizing it too late.

“So, was it Sam’s fault or your’s when your parents died?”

“You dick,” Dean said in soft voice.  He ran from his chair, slamming the screen door to the backyard with enough force for it to slam twice.

Shit.

+++

He grabbed two beers from the worn down tabletop and pushed past Bobby’s and Sam’s shocked faces.  He ran outside after Dean.       

“Stupid, _stupid_ , you idiot!” Castiel muttered angrily to himself as he tripped over different scrap metal of various boats and what suspiciously looked like a car part.  He never should’ve asked about his parents, a sensitive subject in the past.  Why would it be any different now?  Castiel stumbled around in the dark.  His yellow eyes didn’t have night vision, something that he cursed for in moments like these.  It shouldn’t have been very hard to find Dean, considering they were just on top of a floating piece of rock, but his imagination kicked into overdrive as he saw a small Dean figure falling off of the edge into the dark earth below in his mind’s eyes.  Cas needed to find Dean _now._       

“Dean, where are you? It’s me.” Castiel shouted into the starry night.

“Dude, I’m up here.  God, you’re such a terrible seeker.”  A warbly voice came from somewhere to his right, and he turned around to see a large tree that towered far above the scrapyard with brown leaves and dead branches.  At the middle of the tree, Cas could see Dean sullenly leaning against the thick trunk on a large branch.  He walked quickly to the tree but stopped at the base.  He reached for a branch robotically but aborted the movement.       

“What is it, Manny?” Dean asked curiously from above, his green eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I…..I don’t know how to climb,” Castiel answered honestly as he stared down at the thick roots.

“Really? Why not?”

“It’s just that I’ve gotten used to being on the ground for so long, I…..never really got a chance to learn,” Cas said distantly.

“I can’t stand being on the ground.  Maybe two days tops, but I just feel like I have a...” Dean paused as he scrunched his face up in deep concentration, and seemed to have made a decision.  He dropped in front of Castiel.  Silently, he pushed Cas up onto the nearest branch and pointed at the different handholds and nooks until they were both up on that thick branch.  It was a while before Dean spoke up again.

“I have a longing,” Dean said sadly as he looks up through the branches and into the night sky. “For what, I don’t know, but I feel safer and most at home when I fly. I feel _closer_ ,” Dean confessed.

“Closer to what?” Cas asked out of genuine curiosity.  This was strange and something new in his great archive of Dean Winchester.  This wasn’t the same man with the irrational fear of flying, and somehow this revelation made his heart ache.

“Forget it, doesn’t matter now.” Dean dismissed him flippantly and shuffled in place until he could look at Castiel.  They were close enough that Cas could count every individual freckle.  He licked his lips out of force of habit as he thought that Dean’s freckles needed to be recounted.

“What’s your story?” Dean said with wide eyes that make him seem even younger.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, your brother named Stan and someone just pushed you out of a window just because they disliked you?”

“Well it’s true!” Castiel bristled.

“Why won’t you tell me? I know we’ve only known each other for like less than two days, but can I least hear the reason why you just fudge off for months at a time?”

“It’s a force of habit, not telling people of my reasons.  My enemies can very cruel.”

“Enemies? What about your friends, then?” Dean replied, and Cas couldn’t look at him in the eye anymore.  He briefly considered mentioning Bela, but he knew it was more of a lie to himself than to Dean.  “Oh,” was all that Dean said.  They spent the next hour talking about Dean’s interests.  He loved flying and competed in a yearly race.  He loved to bake, and maintained a garden.  Cas made a face and Dean must have seen it because he explained in a teasing tone that he destroyed over half of his petunias and tomatoes on his roof. “How else did you expect not to come out of that without becoming a splat unless you had a soft landing?”  It was a while before Castiel could finally bring himself to say something--anything about what’s to come.

“Dean, I want to confess something,” Cas said quietly, and mentally braced for the disgust and horror, but it must be done if Cas ever wanted to warn him.

“Yeah, what is it, Manny?”

“My real name is---” Cas got cut off by column of pure white light that made him cringe and snarl as he looks away.  Dean made a surprised but pained noise and looked away as well.  Castiel struggled not to snap his yellow eyes open as his insides churned and contorted in queasy motions, and he had a feeling that his true oily self underneath was instinctively trying to escape.  As was the nature of every other creature of the dark, he would drop everything and run in the presence of an Angel.

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

“What the fuck was that? My eyes hurt, man,” Dean complained as he rubbed at his eyes. Cas had to take in deep breaths until he was confident that his eyes wouldn’t appear yellow.

“I have to go,” Cas said icily as his bony wings tensed tightly against his back, and he dropped down to the ground with a thud and walked away.  The fallen angel made it a few steps before he turned around and looked at Dean’s upset face, still high in the branches.

“I’ll see you again, Dean, I swear it.” Cas whispered his promise as he waved toward Dean and plastered a grin that he was sure wasn’t all that convincing.

He walked through the salvage yard and ducked behind different metal parts that Cas wasn’t all that sure were just junk or a part he didn’t care to identify.  He managed to look through a lit window and saw Bobby and Sam standing in the front door like immovable walls against a suit clad man, who was no doubt an angel. Castiel sneered at the bright whitish blue halo above his head, but he couldn’t see the angel’s wings.  It was a depressing thought that he could only see Lucifer’s because he allowed him to perceive them.

“I don’t know who you think you are but you aren’t gettin’ in my house, buster,” Bobby said grouchily, and subtly reached for the shotgun lain carelessly behind the door.  In the past, Bobby would have slammed the door in their faces and threatened to shoot them already with ten different guns.

“I’m looking for my brother.  Now please get out of the way, Mister Singer,” the angel replied coolly, and he seemed to look beyond them and into the house.  No doubt he was.  Castiel used to have those abilities himself.  He quietly snuck past the window until he was at the corner of the house, where the angel was just around and still outside.  Castiel yet again stamped on the feeling that warned him that his eyes would be revealed.  He needed stealth in this moment.  He palmed down into the back of his jeans and flipped open his knife, custom-made by Castiel himself from a melted down angel blade.       

He swooped in from behind and twisted the angel’s arm, holding the knife to his neck and growling lowly as his former brother chuckled.  Neither of them paid any mind to Bobby’s and Sam’s shocked faces.       

“It’s been a while.  Don’t you remember me?” the angel asked, but grunted as Cas made a shallow cut on his throat deep enough to graze the grace underneath.

“Who are you?” Castiel demanded.

“Inias. I thought you would recognize me, considering I haven’t changed a bit,” Inias said with a hint of sadness as Cas took a closer look at his vessel.  He had faint sparks from a memory of a garrison long dead, so he reluctantly let his arm go and lowered his knife.  His grip remained white-knuckle tight on it.  It was true that Inias hadn’t changed.  He still had the same vessel since he last saw him hundreds of years ago.

“I thought you had the one brother?” Sam asked, disrupting the staring contest between the two, and Cas finally noticed their small audience.  He grabbed Inias by the arm and told them that him and his brother were just going to talk in private.

“One brother?” Inias whispered after they had gotten close to a ledge on the edge of the floating property.

“Staniel,” Cas answered, sharp and clipped.

“We don’t have a brother named---Lucifer?! You named Lucifer ‘useless’?” Inias stared at him in both shock and awe at his bravery.

“I really would prefer if you don’t read my mind.”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“Get to the point, already,” Castiel snapped.  He never did small talk.

“I’m only doing this out of respect that we had in the past and,” Inias paused and seemed to resign, “fine, I wanted to tell you that Lucifer is going to start circling his vessel very soon.”

“Sam? Yes, it’s old news.”

“No, it’s Dean.”

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

“Does Lucifer know?” Castiel breathed out, his mind stuck over the image of Dean ruling over all of Hell.

_No. It can’t be all for nothing, all those centuries, just for Dean---_

“No, not yet. However, it’s not going to be long before he’s going to hunt--not just Dean but Sam as well.”

“I can’t,” Castiel’s voice shook before he cleared his throat and spoke again, “I won’t let that happen.”

Inias seemed to study him, almost daring for Castiel to back down in his scrutiny.  Castiel stared as well, refusing to give an inch. It was another few moments before Inias made a pleased sound and started patting down his coat pockets.  He took out a stark white card. Gold lettering and designs gracefully decorated the card.  It described Inias as leader of the 77th Garrison and to pray him with certain words instead of a phone number.

“We’ll be glad to welcome you back, Castiel.” Inias gave a soft smile and patted him on the shoulder and left, leaving no room for argument.

+++

Castiel was left reeling as he turned over the card in his hands, perfectly clean with not an ounce of dirt on it. He didn’t notice someone was talking to him until he felt a hand come down on his shoulder shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Where’s your brother?” Sam asked softly and sympathizing.   He had the one face that Dean always affectionately called his puppy face.

“He left,” Castiel stated blankly.  It was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Uh, that’s it?” Sam said after a long moment of uncomfortable staring.  He wildly gestured in something that Castiel doesn’t understand.  He leaned away a bit.  No doubt Sam’s arms were already packing with strong bones and muscles despite him still being young.  It would hurt if Sam wasn’t careful.

Sam sighed and put down his arm by his sides. “Never mind then. You’re pretty tight-lipped, aren’t ya?”

“What do my lips have to do with anything?”

“ _Like I said_ , never mind.” Sam twisted his face in irritation.

“Sam, I,” Castiel looked away and glanced back at the lite up house in hesitation. “I’m sorry, but I know Bobby has those old books from the ruins.  They are outdated and useless, but some common truths remain.  Demons can’t cross over pure salt rock lines and holy water burns them.  Also most creatures are hurt by pure iron.  Please, Sam, I want you to remember all of this.”

Sam backed away slowly, but that soft smile came back and he nodded with his palms up.  Cas almost breathed a sigh of relief.  Sam believed him.

“Listen, Manny, is there any way I can call your brothers and get them to pick you up? It’s awfully late and dark,” Sam said soothingly.

 _“No!_ They shouldn’t come here.  It’s dangerous for you and Dean, even Bobby.  Please believe me.  You need to learn how to defend yourself while I’m gone,” Castiel said desperately as he took a step closer, but Sam took another step away.  This was frustrating, and many things could go wrong with Castiel’s barely formed plan.  It was tempting to show his eyes and scare a little unholy wrath.  Dammit, he had to leave, but he couldn’t leave them undefended.  It would seem he needed to make a few calls.

“Do you have a phone?  I need to call a friend.”  Castiel asked with all hints of desperation gone and only a cold and calculating voice remaining.

“Yeah, it’s in the house.  Why?”

+++

Bela’s high heels clicked impatiently on top of the weapons box, full of everything from salt shotguns and holy water bottles, with a few swords as well.  The moon was a pale blue as it rested high in the sky.  It was a barely enough light to see Bela’s monster on her back, tentacles wrapped lazily around her shoulders and waist like a backpack.  Its dark grey skin blended in with its surroundings and its face was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, Castiel.  Want to tell me why I had to bring my little child to these parts?” Bela gave him a shark’s smile.  She always liked when death and destruction came in her wake.

“I need your ‘little child’ to protect them.  What do you need?” Castiel said, cold with professionalism.

“A few drops of blood from everyone you’re protecting, plus telling them to not run under any circumstances, or otherwise darling here will just eat them up,” Bela replied with a hint of pride.

“I thought they would be bigger,” Castiel admitted as he stared at the lump.

“They are. This one is just a babe.  Don’t worry, it’ll grow high enough to knock this floating piece of crap right out of the sky.  You know, adults can sink a Sky-City down without much effort,” Bela explained.

“Thank you, um, can you?” Castiel held out his arms hesitantly.  Bela rolled her eyes and made no move to unsaddle her kid.  It took a few moments before it dawned on him and he unsheathed his knife in his back pocket and cut down on the meat of his left arm.  The tentacles rolled lazily and slow until almost too fast for Cas to see, a tentacle wrapped around his arm.  He had to fight his instinct to bring down the knife and fight as the sole tentacle slithered to his dripping blood.  He felt the small suckers inside the tentacle over his wound unfurl to reveal a small grey tongue inside each of them, licking happily his blood up.

“Does it really have to be….?” Castiel tried not to shudder.

“Yes, obviously. Now down, darling. Don’t drink it all up.” Bela patted on a large tentacle on her shoulder and the tongues furled back into the suckers and let go of his arm.  Castiel wiped the remaining slime on the front of his jeans.  It was truly unsanitary and gross.

“What’s its name?” Castiel asked, simply because he couldn’t just keep calling it ‘It’.

“I don’t know.  You can name it.  Now, I have some business to do if you’re gonna go ahead with your plan. So toodles!” Bela waved her fingers and disappeared.  However, the creature was still there and Castiel could see two large oval black eyes in the center of what seemed to be a fleshy pinwheel.  Its tentacles unfurled to their full length both upwards and sideways, making it bigger than it seemed.

“Bob?” Castiel tried hesitantly.  However, a narrow slit below the eyes opened almost impossibly wide and revealed rows and rows of sharp teeth and hissed.

“Okay, not Bob then.  Perhaps Dean has better imagination than I do,” Castiel said quickly.  He wasn’t sure if he trusted Bela a hundred percent, but it had to be good that Not-Bob hadn’t attacked him yet. Right?

Not-Bob made a strange step closer to Castiel and his mind fought between taking a step backward despite Bela’s warning.  Suddenly the creature went blurry and there was new weight on his back, too fast for him to defend himself.  Castiel stood stiffly as Not-Bob laid tentacles around him like a cat, a soft rumble reverted through his body as it laid limp.  Out of precaution he flicked his eyes yellow and commanded it to behave.  It answered with a slithering tentacle across his face.  He wasn’t sure if was reassuring.  Terrifying, more like.  At least they would be in less danger when Castiel set out to do his plan.  Well, it was time to introduce Not-Bob to everybody else.  Hopefully they would consent to giving their blood.

Not-Bob was greeted with colorful cursing from Bobby and curiosity from Sam and Dean, both of them agreeing it was badass.  Castiel had explained very calmly the situation and with a few reluctant groans, they had all consented giving their blood.

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

Castiel groaned on the grey cobblestones. Hell’s Portal was a really painful sometimes, but thankfully that disrespectful Belial was nowhere to be seen.  He stood up and dusted off his trenchcoat and suit from ashes and dirt.  Castiel looked upward at the looming blood red palace, just peeking over worn buildings. Hell’s Palace was very old, created a few moments after Lucifer had fallen to this bleak realm.  It had numerous rooms and hallways.  Sometimes they seemed to stretch off to forever, and only the highest of the creatures of the dark could walk through without getting lost.  He needed to find his brother, Lucifer, but only after there was a certain place he needed to stop by if this whole plan was going to work.

+++

Castiel walked through the palace doors that led to the throne room, completely painted in white from the walls and columns that lined it, and even the floor.  Only the black throne at the far back gave stark contrast.  It was deeply unsettling for most demons who expected blood red or even earth brown considering the myth that they were below Earth’s surface.  Lucifer sat on his throne with legs splayed about, long legs from Nick put to good use as he pushed a long object across the floor.

Castiel looked down at the angel sword, pristinely clean and silver with grace. Lucifer’s grace, so it was an archangel sword by definition.  Castiel whipped up his head to met his cool gaze.  Had he already found out? He breathed a little quicker as he picked it up into his hands.  Its balance was perfect.  It had been so long since he held an angelic sword, and he was tempted to practice a few feints with it.  No, focus, Castiel, remember why you’re here.

“Brother, we need to talk,” Castiel said firmly, and with some difficulty, he put down the archangel sword on the floor.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. I need to talk you as well, so please sit here.” Lucifer gestured to the floor in front of his throne.  Castiel walked closer until he was on top of the spot but made no move to sit down.

“Cassie, you’ve been a very good advisor for many centuries, both in human and hell years.  I believe it’s time for a small promotion,” Lucifer said as he held both of Castiel’s hands in his larger ones like he was a child.

“A promotion? Why?” Castiel repeated disbelievingly.  If he was any higher on the ladder, then he would be sharing space with Lucifer.

“Dean will be my true vessel.  Isn’t that great news?” Lucifer smiled as he squeezed his hands.  Castiel wrenched away his hands, horrified.

“No. I will not have Dean down here, especially not as your vessel,” Castiel snapped as his bare wings flared out.

“Cassie, this apocalypse will be seen through. No matter who’s the vessel or not, we’ll always end up here,” Lucifer said as he stood up, and stepped closer to Castiel as he held the archangel sword in his hands.  Cas looked back where he left the sword at the entrance, but it was gone.  It must have been the one that Lucifer had.  The younger angel made a show of reluctantly taking the sword and putting it in his back pocket.  Lucifer smiled and patted him on the back and went back to sit on the throne.

“Anyways, what did you want to talk about?” Lucifer added on a less serious note.  Castiel moved until he was directly behind the black throne, completely out of his older brother’s sight.  He quickly and quietly took out the archangel blade and pressed it down on his arms.  Meanwhile, he peppered Lucifer’s head of hair with kisses.  He rumbled in amusement and brought up his hands to bring Castiel’s head closer and he doted his forehead as well.  It was unlikely distraction and Lucifer widened his eyes as he smelled the sharp tang of blood in the air.

“I’m handing in my resignation, brother,” Castiel snarled as he brought down his hand onto the bloody angelic banishing sigil.  Lucifer screamed as his golden wings snapped out against his will and disappeared in a flash of white light.  Perks of being an abomination- you don’t exactly count as angel anymore.

Suddenly he heard shouts from beyond the white door that led the throne room and it was thrust open with a large bang.  Belial at the very front looked confused where his master had gone but narrowed his eyes as he saw Castiel’s sword covered in blood.

“You! Kill him!” Belial screeched in a raspy voice and large black shadows slipped in and dirtied the pristine white walls, leaving behind a trail of grime in their wake.  Twisted faces in the smoke screamed and howled that the King was dead and killed by his most loyal servant.  It was a blasphemy in the eyes of the Dark.

“You know, I never did like you, Belial.  You acted like you’re all that but in all actuality, you’re a laughingstock,” Castiel confessed with a scowl and watched Belial’s face turned from firetruck red to a dried grape in fury.  Belial lunged forward with a battle cry but then abruptly stopped mid step and looked down at his chest, an angelic sword protruding from it.  He screamed as his insides lit up with an orange and yellow and collapsed, and with a flick of Castiel’s hand, the archangel sword was back in his hands.  His yellow eyes raked across the still shadows in a challenge.  He was perfectly capable of killing every single demon in here and they all knew it.  Still, demons weren’t known for their brains and decided to swarm him.

Castiel brought his bare wings in tight against his back and swiped and slashed at the large black mass that almost reached the three-story-high ceiling.  Castiel could fight hundreds with the archangel blade but it was a fact that he didn’t have the same stamina as a normal angel had and he would probably tire at around a thousand.

“Where are Bela’s reinforcements?” Castiel panted out in exertion between feints and killing blows.  Bela had promised him to rally up his supporters, which included Crowley’s minions.  However, they needed to cut through Samhain’s followers, who were the oldest Lucifer-loyalists to date.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud screech echoed in from the outside to the room.  Both the demons and Castiel stilled as they tried to place the sound.  Another louder and more animalistic screech came out of the silence, closer this time, and the audible crunching of bones followed it.  Castiel could see that out of the corner of his eyes the black smoke paled until it was dark grey. Cas would have done the same if he hadn’t had the archangel sword, but just how reliable would it be against the large adult versions of Not-Bob, strong enough to knock tons of metal out of the sky?  Cas preferred that he didn’t find out and took a step backwards.  Somewhere the footstep seemed to be a signal and soon the room was swarming again.  Not out of anger and revenge, but out of fear.  Another screech came, more of a high pitched scream, and he jumped behind the throne as a large grey tentacle crashed through the wall, about twelve feet from the bottom to the top.  He curled into a ball and covered his head as the demonic smokes tried to move past the creature but undoubtedly were eaten by those tongues if those sucking noises were any indication.  Then came an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of the tentacle lazily slithering across the white marble floor and….

Heels.

“Come on out, Castiel.  The cavalry has arrived,” Bela teased as her blonde head shadowed him from above.

“I could have held my own for another few minutes,” Castiel said as he brought down his hands and crossed his arms petulantly.

“Oh come on, stop being a hard ass.  You know you had a limit and I could have just left for dead, and you know I would do it,” Bela said harshly.  She rarely hid her cruelty and when she did--it wasn’t for very long.

“I named him Not-Bob,” Castiel said emptily and stood up in place, archangel sword tight in his left hand.

“Who?”

“The ‘little child’ you gave me.  Thought you might like to know,” Castiel answered as he tucked the sword firmly into the sleeve of his trenchcoat.

“Well, I don’t.  Besides, we have to get out of here before your boss shows up again.” Bela grabbed his bicep and pulled him along to the double doors that laid open barely hanging onto the hinges.  Castiel mumbled “Not my boss.” but Bela ignored him as they walked into the red landscape, filled with blurs of black smoke and the thumps left behind by the other grey beasts with their tentacles waving about.

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

 

Castiel felt himself on firm ground after going through the nauseating demonic transport he always despised.  They were on Earth.  Somewhere in the middle of a grassy plain, the edges of a ruined city at the fringes of the horizon.  No doubt most of the Croatoans congregated over there.  Bela let go of his arm and stepped away from him, mumbling something about winged dicks and prefered not dying by a racist angel when she was supposed to be ruling over Hell, and left.

Castiel patted down his pockets until he found that crisp white card again and prayed the certain prayer words with the usual holier-than-thou.  He ended with an Amen.  Then he waited.

+++

Thankfully, Inias didn’t drag his feet and appeared a few minutes later with a rustling to announce his arrival and several others’.  Oh, Castiel should have expected this, but he was still running high from his battle with the demons.  It was too late now.  He pulled his wings quietly.  He didn’t deserve to have his wings looked at and he didn’t want the pity and shame that came from his bare wings, devoid of feathers.  It had been a long time since he had feathers, but they were black for about six years before they were immediately plucked and melted from his bones after he made his deal with Lucifer.  His feathers before all of that, before raising the Righteous Man from Hell, it was harder to remember.  He wasn’t sure if they were dark blue or completely white like everybody else.

“Castiel, it’s good for you to make contact with us.  Now, we need to talk about how we can welcome you back and that requires--” an angel spoke up, one with golden colored skin and smooth features, with a waxy voice that made him no other than Arael.

Castiel butted in before he finished his sentence, “No thank you.”

“What?” Inias gaped.

“Brothers, and sister,” Castiel nodded to one of the angels, “I would like to ask of you for a favour.”

“What? A favour from the likes of--” Arael fumed but got cut off with a sharp, “Shut up, let him talk,” from Inias.

“I banished Lucifer from Hell.  No doubt Michael will find him easily enough and I would like that they fight in Lawrence, USA, Earth,” Castiel said clearly and confidently as if he was smoothing out the wrinkles of a business deal.  Plenty of experience from that.

“Why?” the angel with the female vessel, Guriel, asked softly.

“Guriel, Inias, Arael, how is it in Heaven? Is Michael walking among you or is he absent and distant as he searches for his father?” Castiel replied, already knowing the answer as the three of them looked at each other and looked down at their feet.

“Will you be our new leader?” Guriel blurted out.

“Guriel!” Arael protested loudly with a glare.

“No, actually, I would much rather prefer to be a human,” Castiel answers with brutal honesty, ignoring the flinch of hurt across all of their faces.  It had taken him years, centuries even before Lucifer had taught him only one good thing that didn’t coincide with torture or manipulation.  Often times, the truth being told was far better than a self-told lie, and it saved many hardships and misunderstandings down the road.

“Why not an angel?” Inias asked with a cocked eyebrow.  Castiel shook his head.  Some truths weren’t meant to be shared.  However, he explained his plan to them.  It all started before he went to to confront Lucifer.  With his high security access, he was able to discreetly open the Cage, enough that the two warring archangels wouldn’t notice until they were directly on top of it.  Then with Lucifer banished somewhere on Earth, Michael would no doubt try to find him instead of convincing Dean or Sam to be his shiny new vessel.

“Now this is where you three come in.  I want you to corral the two of them to Lawrence.  Bela has already locked all of Hell’s gates including Hell’s Portal, so Lucifer won’t be able to sneak back in.  That’ll leave him to deal with the Croatoans, and I’m sure you can use certain persuasive tactics to swarm him until he reaches the cemetery. I also want you to tell Michael all of this except that the Cage is open,” Castiel explained as the three of them huddled in close to hear him.

“What do we tell him when he asks why he has to be in Lawrence?” Guriel asked as she bit her lower lip.  A common nervous tic, no doubt picked up from her relentless watch of humanity.

“Just feed some bullcrap like symbolism, and it has to end where it all started,” Castiel explained, unconsciously slipping in some of past Dean’s vocabulary.

“Feed him feces of bulls? I don’t understand what you mean?” Arael asked genuinely, bewildered and a little concerned.

“It’s a metaphor,” Castiel sighed.  Was this how Dean felt when he didn’t get a pop culture reference?  After a few moments of discussion, they nodded and flew off to Heaven to carry out Castiel’s plan.

 

* * *

 

**Year 2235**

His plan worked well enough, Castiel supposed.  Lucifer wandered the North American continent until the angels corralled the bastardized version of demons, Croats, by flashing their true face, enough that they ran in the other direction.  When Lucifer was finally in the cemetery, he gave a dark laugh, no doubt recognizing the symbolism.  It wasn’t that long after that Michael found him.  Castiel watched on his stomach over the edge of a nearby Sky-City, almost directly above them, a phone in one one hand.  He had Bela on the other line, ready to fully slam open the Cage on his signal.  Lucifer and Michael did that same routine of father issues and the beg for rebellion as they circled each other. Castiel refrained from biting his nails but it was stressful knowing how close they were to the end.

Castiel sucked in a breath as the two of them lunged at the same time, directly over the hole.

“Now!” Castiel shouted into the phone, and a few moments later he could see the rip in the fabric of reality- the Cage as it was so mockingly called. Castiel didn’t release his breath until the last of the archangels’ screams were swallowed up and the earth patched itself up.  He let the barest of smiles through as he heard loud cheering on Bela’s end.  Finally no more fear for the demons that weren’t Lucifer-loyalists.

Despite that Hell was his home for nearly six centuries- just a blip in the long existence of Castiel- he hated it with a burning passion but all the same, he’ll miss it.  Suddenly he heard footsteps from behind him, and Castiel stood up from lying on his stomach to greet his brothers and sisters.

“Lucifer and Michael are bound in the Cage again, possibly forever,” Castiel reported to the beaming smiles of Inias and Arael.

“How do you know? Lucifer managed to escape last time, and Michael as well.” Arael asked.

“Not to fear.  I visited the Cage in Hell, and I managed to seal the gap.  Perks of an abomination, I suppose,” Castiel explained with a slight tug of a smile.

“Brother, we would like to welcome you back to your real home, Heaven.  We found your grace in Metatron’s archives, underneath the ruins.  It’s already purified and cleansed for you.” Inias grinned warmly as he tugged on a silver band around his neck to reveal the tube full of his shining blue grace.

“Thank you,” Castiel says softly as he pushes the tube back, “but no thank you.”

Inias and Arael looked at each other and then Castiel, silently communicating in looks and gestures.

“Then at least grant us the courtesy of turning you human. I suppose you deserve it, after all of this time,” Inias said as he held out his two fingers out invitingly.  If Cas leaned forward a few inches, they would be touching his forehead.  He meant what he said earlier of preferring to be human but he hadn’t actually expected for his brother to take it into his consideration.

“Wait! Don’t do it!” Guriel panted breathlessly as she flew in.  Castiel paused and leaned away.

“Why?”

“It’s Dean.  We need an angel, and it has to be you,” Guriel explained with a tinge of shame.  Castiel walked a few steps in her direction, yellow eyes staring at her in unholy wrath.  He growled out a command to be taken to Dean immediately.

“Wait, Castiel, you need your grace,” Arael said as he pulled the necklace away from Inias in one swift move and tossed it to Cas.  All three of them nodded in encouragement as he glared at the grace.  He would much prefer to be a human, but Dean came before everything.  With that final thought in mind, he threw the vial onto the floor and smashed it under his foot, the grace coiling and expanding through his mouth, burning him and his oily darkness.  Castiel collapsed onto the floor on his knees as his wings snapped open to full length, his muscles strained as they stretched further they have in years. He gave a guttural scream as he felt his grace knitting his muscles and tendons over his bare bones, good as new. His eyes drained from their sickly yellow color into clear, and bright blue.  The feathers hurt most of all as Castiel growled, his voice hoarse from screams.  They rapidly grew in the span of a few seconds, white as a pearl.

“White?” Castiel asked in a bitter tone.

“Like I said, we completely purified and cleansed them for you, Castiel,” Arael said proudly.  Castiel barely held in his unbelieving huff and screamed again, his feathers changing from his spine until all of them were completely black as night, not a trace of any other color in sight.

“Fuck you,” Castiel said in reply and shakily got on his knees.  He had gotten used to black feathers.  They had reminded Castiel of his existence’s greatest achievement, pulling the Righteous Man from Hell.  Despite all of his past mistakes and sins, there was at least one thing he had done right and he would never bear to forget it.

Castiel asked Guriel where the Winchesters were, and she confirmed that they were still at the scrap yard, surrounded by hordes of Lucifer-loyalists and with no way out.  Without waiting for his siblings to catch up, he flew for the first time in centuries.  He considered taking the more aesthetic route and actually flying through the air, but decided not to, when the Winchesters were on the on the line.  Later then. He appeared at the entrance, the sun high in the sky, and it warmed his feathers as he took in the sight of the large smoky mass.  If he didn’t know better he could have mistaken it for a tornado.

It screeched and circled the house at the eye of it.  Castiel breathed a sigh of relief that the wards he put there earlier had held. However, they wouldn’t last for very long.  Castiel slipped his blade down from his sleeve.  Honestly he had almost forgotten about it, and an archangel blade would come in handy.  He didn’t pay any mind as the three other angels showed up.  It was just as well he had back up.  Between the four of them, they made quick work of slicing through the demon horde and littered the ground with dead bodies and ashes.  Fortunately there were no casualties--just some cuts and bruises that would heal soon enough.

“Dean?” Castiel asked as he knocked on the front door.  He waited a few moments before he heard cursing and loud thumps of heavy footsteps and the audible “Idjits”.

“I have to thank ya for Non-Bob.  That sonvabitch held back those demons from getting in here. Don’t worry, Dean’s inside,” Bobby told him as he scratched his beard and tilted his cap towards him in a gesture of gratitude. Castiel mumbled a thank you as well before he pushed past the man and into the house, making for the kitchen quick as possible.

“Dean?” Castiel asked again to Dean’s sitting form.

“Yeah, Manny?” Dean turned around.  His breath was caught with awe as he finally saw a very familiar soul for the first time in centuries.

It was still beautiful as the day he dragged it from Hell.

Gorgeous.

It seemed that the apple pie life looked good on Dean, and the dark stain that marred his soul was almost gone. Like a scar that’s healed over. Maybe Heaven was good for something after all.

“Hey, hey! You’ve been there standing slack jawed for a few minutes now. You okay, Manny?” Dean asked as he waved wildly.

“Castiel.”

“What?”

“My name’s Castiel, I’m a former Angel of the Lord, and I went to Hell more than once for you, Dean. And I love you.” Castiel confessed in a great rush. His shoulders relaxed as if a great burden has been lifted.

“Castiel, like the Castiel?” Dean stumbled as he got up from the chair.

“Yes.”

“I uh---well--eh…...Ellen is going to flip her shit,” Dean finished lamely. Castiel’s mouth twitched in amusement. He closed the space between in two steps and brought a hand on Dean’s neck. He pulled and kissed him chastely. Short and sweet.

“Well Ma--Cas, can I call you Cas? Are we like a thing now?” Dean leaned in closer and pecked him.

“Yes, definitely.” Cas answered with a gummy smile. This time he used both of his hands to clasp Dean’s neck and kiss him properly with teeth and tongue.

 

_**THE END** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "We'll Always End Up Here"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500130) by [TKodami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKodami/pseuds/TKodami)




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